


At the Dragon's Side

by spirogyra



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, Consent Issues, Dragons, Dubious Consent, Gen, King Newt and Prince Hermann, M/M, Magic, Power Imbalance, Slow Build, minor violence and death, reluctant spouse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 01:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 93,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirogyra/pseuds/spirogyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lars Gottlieb has brokered his kingdom's safety by arranging a marriage between his son, Hermann, and the powerful king of dragons in the north: Newton Geiszler.</p><p>It's a struggle for everyone to figure out how this should work.</p><p>(based on Iraya's Arrange Royal Marriage AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iraya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iraya/gifts).



Hermann drew the robe around his shoulders and tied the belt. The previous night he'd looked over the room itself, so this morning he went immediately to the massive and ornate dressing cabinet in the corner. The glossy black stone that made the floor of the king's chambers was cold beneath his feet, even through the fur rugs.

Everything here was so utterly different from what he was used to, he had the sudden intense desire to see his mother. But she wasn't there, and Hermann wasn't so sure he'd ever see her again. His father hadn't said as much, but it had been easy enough to tell that Hermann was an insignificant pawn, that he was to stay in this kingdom of dragons until he died.

When he opened the doors to the cabinet and saw the clothing hanging inside, panic gripped him. None of his things were there. Not even his travel or ceremonial robes were inside. All of his clothing had been replaced. Clothing was insignificant in the long run, but he'd been holding something during both the trip to the castle and the ceremony all the way back to the king's chambers.

The desire to see his mother was replaced by the urge to cry. The _single_ thing he cared about keeping with him was gone. Panic to resignation to depression in the blink of an eye. So that was it. That was really it. His entire identity was gone; he was nothing.

Of course he'd been a disappointment to his father, but there'd still been pride in his family name, in the accomplishments of his siblings. Now, Hermann felt empty. That dragon might as well have killed him. Yet he had this to do, this part to play in the existence of two kingdoms, and he couldn't be so selfish to let his personal feelings get in the way of that.

With a heavy heart, he opened the top drawer to see what else was waiting for him. Scraps of cloth in pale gray. At home, all his clothing was cloth: crisp linen, warm wool, luxurious silks. These little scraps of thin cotton?

Hermann pulled one out and held it up. It unfolded to reveal itself as a shirt. The material was so thin, he could easily see light through both layers. The purpose of such a garment was utterly lost on him; even in the coldest weather, regular shirts under his robes were the heaviest things he wore. Normally, it wasn't even that much.

And the matching bit of cloth made him blush when he figured out what the string was tied to. This was some primitive version of pants, but so… small, only large enough to cover his penis and testicles. Why in the world would anyone subject themself to such a thing? Hermann shoved both garments back in the drawer, then opened the next one down.

All the air in his lungs was sucked out in an instant, and his knees went wobbly. Sitting on top the neat stacks of clothing was the thing he thought he'd lost. HIs father killed a dragon. All his siblings killed a dragon. He killed a dragon. This toy was the one thing he'd wanted to keep, _needed_ to have with him now. A frizzy, worn piece of wool sewn into the rough shape of a sheep. The dragon killer that needed his toy sheep to feel safe.

It wasn't home for him. It was life. With it, even as a reminder sitting in this drawer full of strange clothes, Hermann could cope. Yes, he would dress as they did, speak as they did, attend their ceremonies and celebrations, do what was necessary, what the king asked of him, and would not break. This one thing was all he needed to remind him of who he was.

_He was not expendable. He was not a pawn. From now on, he was on his own._

He tucked it back in the drawer, vowing to find a better place for it later, then inspected the clothing he was forced to wear. It became immediately obvious what the cotton clothing was for: every single item was leather. Most of it was supple, soft as warm butter, but that bottom layer was necessary to protect his most delicate skin. With a resigned sigh and nothing better to do, Hermann started to get dressed.

***

"He looked so… sad."

"Let me tell you something, not as your advisor, but as your uncle: don't trust a king with four healthy children. Don't trust a king that gives one of his children up so easily. And never trust a king that smiles when he does it."

Newt looked at his uncle wide-eyed and nodded. "I didn't like him, Uncle. I didn't like him at all. It had nothing to do with how proudly they bore their 'trophies' either."

"You're a smart boy. We just need to teach you what to do with those instincts." Gunter clapped his nephew on the shoulder. "How did last night go?"

With his face turning bright red, Newt shook his head. "It was awful, Uncle. I don't think he likes me, and I don't think he… And I never…"

"But you went through with it, yes? You consummated the bond?"

"Yes, Uncle. But he looked so sad, and scared! I didn't want to, not like that. It didn't seem fair. It… hurt him."

Gunter ruffled his nephew's hair and smiled affectionately at him. "Do you know how proud your father would be of you? You are the King of the Dragons! You don't have to worry about such things, but you still do. You do what must be done, even when you don't want to. This is why you'll be a great king to your people: intelligent, compassionate, fair, and strong." Gunter took the ancient crown, crafted from the teeth of the first dragons that protected their realm, from its resting spot and placed it on Newt's head.

"Quit mothering the boy, Gunter. It's a day to be proud! We've brought those savages to heel!"

"I wouldn't be so quick with that idea, Ilja. That king of theirs, he's cowardly and untrustworthy. I wouldn't suggest we get involved in any of the southern disputes. Those borders are not our concern."

"I agree wholeheartedly. Do you see, Newt? We _can_ agree! Now, let's go back to arguing. It's so much easier."

Newt smiled at the two men. "Thank you, Uncles. Your counsel has been the most important thing to me since Father died."

Ilja hooked his arm around Newt's neck, a huge grin splitting his thick beard. "We wouldn't let you down. Now I think we need to get some food into this boy. One day, mark my words, growth spurt. Gunter, why don't you see to the _prince consort_?"

Gunter shrugged as Ilja led Newt out. He'd planned on doing so before his brother had stuck his nose into things. This was a matter Newt was not prepared for and Ilja was not suited for, so it fell on Gunter's shoulders. All for the best really.

 

He'd instructed the guard to not allow anyone in or let the prince consort leave. "Anything?"

"No, sir. No one's come by. No one's tried to leave."

He'd let that one go this time. "Wait for us, and familiarize yourself with the prince consort. No disrespect will be tolerated"

The guard stiffened. "Yes, sir!"

Gunter opened the heavy door, the darkness deep behind it even with several lamps lighting the space. As much as Newt disliked it, windows were simply deemed too unsafe for the king's chambers. It was a beautiful space in its own right, but dark as a dungeon. After he shut the door and his eyes adjusted, Gunter was greeted by an interesting sight. "Sir, you seem to be having some trouble," he said evenly.

The prince consort was totally nude and obviously struggling with the customary breechcloth.

The young man gasped and turned, covering himself. "Your majesty!" He bowed clumsily, and left his head lowered, refusing to make eye contact. "F-forgive me for my inattentiveness. I…" He sighed, shoulders slumping, and let his hands fall to his sides, exposing himself.

It couldn't be helped, and Gunter felt bad, but he just couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped. "I am not the king, young master. I am his chief advisor, and I am here to take you to him. At breakfast, if such a thing sounds appealing."

He'd noticed the limp, of course, but now Gunter could see the damage. That was definitely the puckered and twisted flesh healed of dragonfire crawling up the ribs, and the ugly scar across the hip was a very close encounter with a set of talons. A run-of-the-mill stein dragon, known more their grouchy disposition than anything else. Weak fire, no poison, but claws that could rake nests out of granite. The bumbling fools in the south had no idea how to heal even the simplest of injuries; how did they ever manage to kill a dragon?

"Yes, sir. I'm quite hungry." His head was still bowed.

It wouldn't do for the prince consort to be acting like a chambermaid. "Head up, boy!" Gunter snapped. Oh, he understood exactly what Newt had meant, that while he was the age of true manhood, had passed the rites of his father to be considered a warrior (except for the injury), he was frightened.

His own father had made him afraid of them.

"Head up," Gunter repeated, this time more gently. "You bow to no man in this kingdom other than your king. Understand?"

The boy, Hermann, lifted his head and stared back at him. "Yes, sir." His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

An unlovely name, but it fit. Gunter's limited magical sight could see the thread running through him, the one that helped him survive after injuries that would have killed most other men if given the same treatment. "How big was it?" he asked.

"Big?"

"The dragon."

Hermann flushed and looked down again, this time ashamed. "Three poles. Ten hundredweight in my estimation."

Gunter whistled, honestly impressed. "For a skinny thing like you? Did your father intend you to be eaten?" The sudden look of misery had him wondering if that had truly been the plan. "No matter. We won't hold it against you. Now, to get your properly dressed."

They did things strangely in the south, not bothering to wear a thing under their clothing, though Hermann explained their clothing was all various kinds of cloth anyway. That made some sense, but still, how did a man engage in physical activities with his jewels hanging so precariously?

Once the breechcloth was properly tied in place, Hermann had no problem with the shirt, lacing it all the way up to the neck and tying it. The trousers were tricky, needing more substantial fasteners to keep them closed than simple ties. Gunter showed him how the flaps crossed, and then the three simple buckles lay flat to the side of his groin.

"Socks?" Hermann asked, looking down at his bare feet against the black stone.

"We don't usually wear any except when going out, but if it's a concern, I can get you some made." Soft feet. Gunter was not surprised.

"It's just…" Hermann shrugged and wriggled his toes. "Cold."

It was laughable almost, very actually if he were being honest. Who knew how long he'd been standing there naked on the stone with the fire out. "My apologies, young master. The fire keeps the stone warm, but I instructed the guard to let no one in, including the chambermaid." Bowing low, Gunter said, "Forgive me."

Stuttering more than speaking, Hermann said, "'S fine."

"Here, I think you'll find the boots alone are comfortable enough for you." Even though he was the prince consort, there were no concessions made for appearance here. The boots were buffed black, but completely serviceable. Utility hadn't been sacrificed for looks in the least.

Once Hermann slipped his feet in and buckled them shut, a smile lit up his face. It was a difference Gunter hadn't been expecting. "They're amazing! So warm and soft."

"Now you're starting to look like a proper member of the royal court." Gunter stood back and watched as Hermann put on a sueded shirt dyed dark blue and hooked the silvery fasteners shut. "Now a robe."

Hermann pulled out a robe that was a similar blue as the shirt and trimmed with black fur at the collar, hem, and sleeve openings.

"One last thing." The crown was a thing of beauty, even more regal than the king's in Gunter's opinion. White gold cradled the thinnest, most fragile teeth of dragons that hadn't survived hatching from their eggs, and a handful of fire gems that they'd mined from the deepest tunnel they'd carved into the mountain. "I must tell you," Gunter began as he lifted the crown to place it on Hermann's head, "that should some mishap befall the king, you will not take the throne. Do you understand?"

"I do." Hermann watched with just his eyes as the crown was placed on him.

"Keep that in mind, young master." Gunter stepped back to look over the new prince consort. It would do until he grew more confident in his role. "And make no mistake, you control no one. You have no power here. If your father has sent you in an effort to take control of this kingdom, you will fail."

"No, sir. He didn't, sir."

He was either a superb actor or had truly been tossed aside like a broken ox. No man that had killed a dragon could will that look of fear in his eyes, Gunter believed. He would keep a close eye on this one, but was fairly certain his nephew was in no danger. "Good. Let's head to the dining hall so everyone can see you."


	2. Chapter 2

There was noise from the other side of the doors, talking, laughter, that died as soon as Hermann stepped through them. Every single eye was on him, and even with the duke at his side, he wanted to hide. But the man had a grip like iron when it clamped on his arm to drag him forward.

"You will sit at the front with the king," the duke said with a hint of warning in his lowered voice.

"Yes, sir." Hermann's eyes were locked on the figure of the king, features indistinct at this distance. He hadn't seen the man clearly even once since his arrival.

First he'd been garbed in what was obviously full battle dress, his face covered by a black metal helmet. Then at the ceremony, he'd been wearing another helmet made to look like a dragon that covered everything except his eyes.

_green_

And finally, Hermann had been so plied with wine and mead and cider after the ceremony, he didn't even truly remember what had happened. It had probably been for the best anyway. They'd known each other as anything more than names of the enemy for less than two days; Hermann didn't know what to think.

The screech of a chair drew Hermann's attention to find the king standing suddenly.

Slowly, the rest of those sitting around the various tables in the large hall also stood.

Hermann's feet felt like lead encased in warm fur. This was the last place he wanted to be, the last way he wanted to meet the man that was his husband, his king.

"Too late to be shy now. Move your feet."

There's no hiding his surprise when he finally got close enough to see just how young the king is, not at all as expected. He appeared to be roughly the same age as Hermann himself, and after it being the only feature he'd been able to see, he recognized those eyes anywhere. "Your majesty," he said with a surprisingly clear and strong voice, and bowed.

"Here, sit down!" He pulled the chair next to his out. "Eat! You must be starving!" He waited until Hermann was seated, then sat as well.

The rest of the diners all sat, and quiet conversation resumed, though many eyes were on the couple at the front of the room.

Hermann forced himself to eat, keeping his eyes down so he didn't see all the people watching him. The food was delicious, he was sure, but he couldn't taste any of it. The presence of the king next to him and the duke to the other side were making him too nervous to think on anything other than the situation he was in. But from the corner of his eye, he caught the king looking at him and smiling tentatively.

"So tell me, nephew," the duke said, leaning against Hermann, "how was last night? Did the mighty dragon slayer live up to the reputation of his people?"

Ducking his head lower so that his face was almost _in_ his plate of food, Hermann missed the answer because of the blood pounding in his ears. He'd been wondering if he was going to be a prisoner in the king's chambers for his entire time there, and that was suddenly looking like a decent option.

"Uncle!" the king hissed, also leaning into Hermann. "That is unacceptable!"

"That's not- You don't need to defend me, your majesty." As embarrassing it was, Hermann had to remember his place here. Appearances only, so he couldn't allow himself to become a point of contention between the king and his advisor/uncle.

"I do." An arm crossed Hermann's shoulders. "And my uncle knows it. I won't tolerate it."

"Yes, your majesty."

 

Breakfast, from his spot at the front of the room between the other two men after that little confrontation, was silent. It would have been more awkward if the rest of conversation in the hall hadn't picked up, but nobody else seemed to notice how quiet and unenthused the head table was.

"I think it's time we leave to… I don't know. A tour? Oh, I know! Come on!" The king stood abruptly, his hand on Hermann's wrist.

It was a loose but insistent hold, and Hermann allowed himself to be tugged from his seat. It's not really a tour as he was pulled through stone hallways, lit by sunlight streaming through large windows, until they reached an open archway to the outside. They're at the stables, and while the smell was tremendous, it's nothing Hermann wasn't used to. The horses were the only ones at home that didn't judge him.

"So these are the stables, obviously," the king said a little breathlessly, his hand still on Hermann's wrist. "But this isn't what I wanted to show you."

They walked past the large horses, bigger than any Hermann had ever seen, to a heavy iron gate. Beyond it, a green field sloped away to a line of thick trees. The guards at the gate opened it when they approached, and it was the first hint of freedom Hermann had experienced since his father had told him he was being sent here as part of this arranged marriage.

Hermann took a deep breath, and while he wasn't much of an outdoorsman, the fresh air was nice, away from the crush of humanity and livestock and wet stone. "Your majesty, I-"

"No, no! Call me Newt! I bet my uncle tried to scare you, but I'm not like that at all. And I wanted…" The king looked pensive for a moment, biting his lower lip, before he said, "I wanted to apologize for last night. I-"

"I don't remember any of it," Hermann said quickly, his chest tight and words threatening to strangle him. "I was too inebriated." This was the last thing he wanted to talk about with _anyone_. "I understand it was… required. I hold no ill will toward you, your m-Newt."

"I'm glad. I just… I know this was political, and neither one of us would have chosen it if we'd had the power to."

Of course not. Hermann would have been perfectly happy to live his life alone, spending all his free time in the library because there wasn't a place for him anywhere else. His father had made that very clear. And the Dragon King… The stories about the man (maybe not _this_ man, but certainly the lineage of the Dragon King) were legendary. They'd been the basis for the stories his nursemaid had told him before bed; cautionary tales of kidnapped children, swooped up by dragons by order of the Dragon King. He roasted plump boys and girls to feed his horde of dragonlings, and those that were too skinny he put to work in the mines.

It had worked perfectly. Hermann had never left sight of the castle, and never went anywhere outside its walls without an adult.

Certainly, there were no kidnappings, not putting children to work in mines or mucking out stalls of dragons, no cooking of children. No, this Dragon King was everything Hermann's father was not, which meant he had much better options for marriage than himself.

"I'm sorry, your majesty. I'm…" He was out of breath and his leg was hurting. There was no way he could live up to any sort of expectations, and what that meant for his future...

"Newt! Call me Newt when we're in private. Are you okay?"

"You mustn't wait for me, your majesty. I'll only hold you back." The same way he'd held his siblings back, his father back, lowered the esteem of the family in the eyes of the people. Before he could adjust his balance for his weakening hip, Hermann fell to his knee in the moist grass. It was a battle to get his breathing under control, to not hyperventilate. "My father always said I had a weak constitution." He tried to push himself back to his feet, but his leg was having none of it. "Please go, your majesty."

"Don't be silly."

There was a warm hand on his arm and a shrill whistle uncomfortably close to his ear. That was followed by the king's voice though, and it sent a shiver through Hermann's body.

"This was what I wanted to show you anyway."

It was the sound of his nightmares. It was the pulse of air under the leathery wings and the reptilian screech that made him wake up sweating and shaking. Hermann's stomach clenched as the sound grew louder, and he shut his eyes tightly. The ground trembled behind him, and he could smell the creature, like hot swamp water and meat just starting to turn fetid. He couldn't hold back any longer, and vomited up everything he'd eaten at breakfast.

"It's safe. You're safe. I won't let her hurt you. Here, look up. You're safe."

Tears made his vision blurry, which was for the best anyway, because when hermann lifted his head there was a dragon staring at him from less than five feet away.

"This is Dörthe." There was clear affection in his voice when he spoke of the beast. "She's been with me since I first learned to ride." He held out his hand, and the dragon came closer, slipping its narrow snout under his fingers.

Hermann was too terrified to move.

"Dörthe," the king said, and then made a series of noises that didn't sound human to Hermann.

"You _speak_ to them?" he said, utterly aghast at the revelation. That was always something he'd assumed to be unfounded rumors, and utter nonsense. Talking to beasts had just been a complete child's fantasy. Except here it was, happening right in front of him. "How do you communicate with a-a monster?"

The king looked at him just from the corners of his eyes. "I'd be careful how you talk about them. You're not in your little dirt hole. They're all around, even when you can't see them. And they'll understand enough." He turned away from the dragon to face Hermann, rising from the crouch he'd been in. "Are you going to be afraid forever? You can be, never leave the castle, but you'll find that very lonely, but I don't want to see that. I want you to consider this your home." This time he held his hand out to Hermann.

"I don't deserve your kindness. I don't-"

"Stand up. Obey your king and stand up."

If that's how it was then… Hermann ignored the offered hand and struggled to get back to his feet. "I live to serve, your majesty." A dangerous game, but he was at the end of his rope. It was all simply too much for him on the very first day after… so much. He rubbed the back of his arm across his eyes, internally cursing the suede and missing his familiar robes. "If your wish is to feed me to your dragon, then who am I to protest?"

A flash of disappointment, almost something like hurt, appeared and was gone in an instant on the king's face. "I'm not saying this as a threat," he said softly, his hand still extended. "I just want you to respect the things I grew up with. I thought you might grow to enjoy them as well." He lowered his hand.

Hermann sniffed, not caring how it sounded, and started back to the castle, taking a wide berth around the dragon. The ground was soft, the grass was slippery, and his leg and hip were shooting white pain straight up his back and down his arm, but he wasn't going to let it show how much trouble it was giving him. So what if he was a coward?  Who else had been through what he had? None of these people with reverence for these monsters. Which of them understood the pain and misery one of these creatures put him through?

His leg wobbled, the uneven footing sending the pain in his right side spiraling to heights that would see him insensate under the effects of one of the physicians concoctions if he were at home. Hermann suspected such relief would not be afforded him here, not after insulting the king.

With his mind dwelling very firmly on the pain it couldn't block out, the toe of his warm and comfortable boot hit a rock hidden in the long grass. Hermann threw his hands out in front of him, but they slipped, and he fell face first to the ground.

He was only distantly aware through the blinding pain of being lifted, warmth all along his back, the sensation of movement, and then darkness.

***

"He's a stubborn one, I can tell. All of them from down there are."

"Uncle."

"Don't let him fight you for too long," Ilja warned. "You take him into your bed and give him the royal cock so he knows who his king is."

"Uncle! I am not going to do that!"

"You can't be soft on him! You have to-"

"I'll deal with it as I see necessary!" Both disgusted and annoyed, Newt opened the door to his chambers and shut it before either of his uncles could follow.

The lamps were all turned down except for the one over the small table the doctor was working at. "I had to mix it quite strong," the old man said even as he was mixing up more.

Newt stood at the side of the bed and looked at the sleeping face of the prince consort. He couldn't even bring himself to call him husband; he hadn't treated him the way people who are bound together in such a way should. "He was delirious with pain. Is it just the leg?"

"Yes. It was never healed properly. I'm afraid it will trouble him until his last day. There." He held a flask up to the light, swirling the pearlescent liquid within. "Another dose if he should wake up and still be in pain."

With a shaky smile, Newt nodded. "Thank you, doctor. Please feel free to return to your business. I'll watch after him."

The doctor bowed. "Your majesty."

When he exited, light flooded the room momentarily, but no sound. Newt's uncles had gone, and he was alone with his husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Caps all the way down](echoisles.tumblr.com)   
> [Fan stuff](echoislesfandom.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

Hermann awoke, groggy but without pain. Unfortunately, his memory was perfectly intact; he could repeat every word he'd said to the king, but it wouldn't be without shame. He'd acted like a child, a spoiled, beastly little boy. He'd let his pride and fear get the best of him, leading to this. Without windows, he had no idea of the time, no idea how long he'd been out.

His mouth had the familiar aftertaste of mohn philter, an unsurprising thing, that led him to believe he'd probably been unconscious for most of the day. That had been another sticking point for his father, on top of the injury itself, that the relief from the pain left him useless, barely able to leave bed, for an entire day. But he always made the effort, unwilling to simply acquiesce to the numbing hooks in his bones and brain.

Very carefully, expecting heavy and uncoordinated limbs, Hermann sat up and tried to swing his legs out of bed. A small noise of surprise escaped when his legs moved perfectly, painlessly at his command.

"Feeling better?"

Hermann's gaze jerked up to the small, unassuming desk on the opposite side of the room. The king was sitting there looking at him. Instantly, embarrassment flooded him, not from being caught unaware here, but from his behavior earlier. "Yes, thank you, your majesty."

The king stood and approached the bed, looking oddly small without his crown and heavily furred robes. "I told you, call me Newt when we're in private. And I'll call you Hermann. How's that?"

"Whatever you wish. Newt." It felt like speaking a foreign language, such an odd name, and so informal. It went against his every instinct, every moment of his life, proper respect had been drilled into him. Whether it was a visiting dignitary or ambassador or his own family, titles, always titles.

Still sitting on the edge of the bed, the king was now standing in front of him. He could make his mouth say the name, but his mind was far more hesitant, especially when they were so close.

"I think I've gone about this the wrong way." The king reached down and adjusted the collar of Hermann's dressing robe, closing it and hiding away his collarbones. "We're two very different people, been raised in very different ways. So I've come to a decision: we're going to do this the traditional way."

All Hermann could think of were his father's edicts on "tradition", which were just excuses for him to keep absolute control over every aspect of their lives, and dread filled him.

"I won't ask anything unreasonable of you," the king continued, and whether the dread showed on Hermann's face or not, he didn't indicate. "I'll try not to ask for anything you're uncomfortable with, but we all have to make those sacrifices sometimes."

Hermann nodded, mouth dry, waiting for the worst of it.

When the king smiled, it was not unkindly, but didn't quite reach his eyes. "I think we need to start with a proper tour if you're feeling up to it."

Under other circumstances, Hermann might have said that no, he was not feeling up to it, but all things considered… Slowly, steadily Hermann pushed himself to stand, mindful of the faintest twinge of his leg or hip. There was nothing though; he felt fine other than a more generic soreness associated with the exertion and fall. "I… Yes, I'm feeling much better."

"Lane has been the royal physician for as long as I remember. He knows more than almost anyone else in the kingdom." The king stepped back to let Hermann at the wardrobe. "He's been teaching me all the magical properties of plants and animals since I was old enough to read."

"Magical properties?" Hopefully the depth of his surprise at the revelation wasn't audible. Hermann was definitely too used to his own father and his prejudices against most uses (and users) of magic.

"Yeah! Are you not comfortable with magic?"

Hermann opened the cabinet doors and stared blankly at the clothing inside. How he answered this was extremely important he suspected. "I…" Did the king know about his magic? Had his father said anything about it? If the king didn't know, what would his response be? Just because someone was enthusiastic about their own magic didn't mean they appreciated it someone else, especially a stranger they were sharing a bed with. "I am," Hermann said finally. "It's been my life's fascination."

"Even before?"

"Even before. I think my father…"

_The distress in his mother's eyes. The careful blankness on his brother's face. His sister biting her lip._

"I think my father was hoping I would see how pointless my study of magic was when he set me against that dragon. It was always a rite of passage; it was never meant to kill one of us."

"It sounds more like he was scared of your magic, Hermann."

The sound of his name from the king's lips sent a wave of gooseflesh up Hermann's back.

"It sounds like he wasn't going to be too broken up if you had died."

"I-I'm sorry I killed it." Hermann hung his head. He wasn't sorry he'd defended himself in the end, but it wasn't something he'd ever wanted to do in the first place. "I never had any interest in ruling, but my father-"

"I think this is way too much talking about your father," the king said, and there was no mistaking that he meant it should stop. "I have a tour to give you, and it just won't do to have you walking around in that dressing gown."

The king was standing next to him, shoulder warm against his. "Yes, y-Newt."

"I think you should wear these today. For three months, to show fealty and so everyone will learn who you are, this is what you'll wear. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Newt." The things picked out were very different from he'd chosen for himself before. Show fealty indeed, since they made him look like some sort of jester. Only someone who was truly serious in their loyalty would wear such an outfit.

"Do you need help? Getting dressed."

Hermann realized he'd been staring at the clothing. "No, I can manage. The duke showed me how to handle the trickier parts."

"Good." He chuckled suddenly, and when Hermann looked, was grinning ear to ear. "Handling the tricky parts."

Hermann flushed, unused to joking, especially when not at his expense (his brothers were merciless and no one had ever stood up for him). For a long moment he stood there, waiting, until he realized the king wasn't going to leave. With extreme effort to maintain his composure, and not curl into himself, Hermann slid the dressing gown off. Even with his back to the king, he was acutely aware of his nudity, of the scarring that twisted the flesh over his back.

Hopefully in the low light the trembling of his hands was not visible as he hung the robe up on the ornate hook formed to look like the head of a dragon. "We call these kaiser dragons," he commented as he started to dress. If he could get the king's attention off himself, he'd be able to manage the twisting and tying of the breechcloth on his own.

"The biggest I've ever seen of those, I don't even know where it came from and I don't know why it came here." There was awe in the king's voice as he spoke. "It would have crushed this tower down into the ground if it landed on top of it. It was…"

It sounded terrifying.

"...magnificent. I was only ten, but my father took me out to see it. I didn't have the tongue yet, which was probably for the best, but I did get to touch it. I'll never forget it."

In the time it had taken to tell that little story, Hermann had managed to get himself covered. He started on the shirt. "My first encounter was climbing up to a cave and fighting for my life."

"Hermann, I realize you did it out of a sense of duty, but we won't talk about you killing a dragon again. It is not a welcome topic; it's in the past, and it's going to stay there."

Hermann's fingers paused in the midst of lacing up the shirt. "Yes, Newt."

"I know this is… very soon, but I hope once you get more comfortable here, you won't be so close-lipped. Don't you want to be friends? I'd like to know what you think, hear more than one word answers from you."

It took every fiber of Hermann's being to not turn and yell. "You could make it an order." And that was not what he'd wanted to do at all.

"I could. Do you want me to?"

"No, Newt." He wanted to apologize, but the words wouldn't come. How was it his responsibility to apologize when he was the one forced into servitude?

"The more you fight, the more my uncle wants to see me break you under my heel. I don't want to do that. You might be stubborn, but you're not a mule, and I won't treat you like livestock."

Feeling equal measures humiliated and distressed, Hermann didn't even see what was happening around him until the king was helping him into the black jerkin. He had no idea what to say without getting himself further on the bad side of the king, so he remained silent as he was dressed. Highly polished gold hooks all the way up to the base of his throat kept it closed, hugging his torso tightly. The high collar came up to just under his jaw, making it awkward to turn his head in either direction too far.

The trousers were very plain: black like the jerkin, but all the fasteners were of simple dark metal rather than gold, and thanks to his lesson the previous day Hermann managed on his own. The robe, similar to his own back home

_home_

in shape and style, was a stark contrast, almost pure white except for the black geometric designs that wrapped around the sleeves from shoulder to cuff, and traveled all down the front. Their shape was vaguely rune-like, but the pattern repeated, and wasn't of any specific shape Hermann recognized from his studies. The cuffs and hem were both lined with white fur, something he could understand from a practical standpoint. The huge collar that was so fluffy with the same fur that it very nearly engulfed his head was far less practical.

"How am I supposed to eat in this?" Hermann asked, blowing fur away from his face. That wasn't working so he started to paw at it, trying to brush it down, away from tickling his ears and neck.

"You'll learn. Nobody ever said it would be easy." The king was standing in front of him, closing the robe with the large gold buttons. "Nobody else wears white. It's so impractical, and the coloring makes the leather very fragile." He reached over and grabbed the thick belt that was laid out. Leaning in close, so that his head was almost leaning against Hermann's chest, the king looped the belt around his waist.

Hermann wondered if he could hear how hard his heart was beating even as he breathed in the scent of the king's hair. This was cruel manipulation by his father, it had to be, and very slowly pieces were falling into place to make it all clear. His removal from his own home was to strengthen his father's position and make sure his brother would be unchallenged to take the throne next. In contrast, he would weaken the position of the Dragon King. A man, unable to give the king an heir, that had killed a dragon sitting on the throne next to the King of the Dragons.

How would that look, not only to other kingdoms, but also to his own people? Hermann had vowed not to be a pawn, but here he was. "Your majesty, I must-"

"Call me Newt, Hermann," the king said as he cinched the belt tight and buckled it.

"As much as I dislike this thought, I feel this is important to the future of your kingdom. Please, your majesty, you must… get rid of me somehow. This is a ploy to make you look weak, so my fath-"

"I know."

"What?"

The king smoothed down the front of Hermann's robe. "I know what he's hoping will happen. Trust me, my uncles and I talked about this. Uncle Gunter didn't trust your father from the start, and I don't trust him now. Why would he give away a brilliant, brave, and loyal son if he didn't have some plan up his sleeve." He smiled, his eyes reflecting a faint gold in the lamplight. "What you need to worry about is finding your way around."

Obviously Both Hermann and his father had underestimated the king and his advisors. While Hermann just stood and stared in naked surprise, the king took his hand and laid it over his arm.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" The storage of both crowns was surprisingly casual, just a cushioned shelf in the king's wardrobe. "Here. Sorry, the veil is part of it. To mourn the loss of your availability." He settled the crown on Hermann, then straightened the black veil down his back. "But it's not so bad. You don't even notice it, right?"

Easy for him to say. There were black curtains in Hermann's peripheral vision and yet another thing tickling his ears. Overall, the entire outfit seemed so impractical, he wondered what was even expected of him. Eating would no doubt end up an embarrassment. He gave a weak smile and shrugged.

"Yeah, I've never been a fan of it." The king did what could only be described as plonked his crown on his head, then held out his arm.

Still with that weak smile on his face, Hermann reached up and adjusted the king's crown so it was straight. "I'm sorry to ask you this, Newt, but I had a pair of spectacles. I don't require them to see, but I find it more comfortable…"

"Here, right here. The desk. And you should use it whenever you want. There's nothing important in it, no secrets or anything." He opened the small drawer on the top of desk and pulled a pair of spectacles.

Even the chain was still intact, and Hermann breathed sigh of relief. He hadn't known how much comfort those would bring him until he they weren't that constant weight either on his face or around his neck. He smiled. "Thank you. Just knowing where they are is enough for now. I think putting them on might be too much work with all this."

"We'll have to get them on first next time."

As the king turned to put the spectacles back in the small drawer, Hermann put his hand on his chest, trying to get his oddly hammering heart under control.

"Now, breakfast?" The king held his arm out.

Hermann put his hand on the king's arm, and allowed him to lead the way out into the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> echoisles.tumblr.com  
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

The door was small and unassuming, but when Hermann stepped into the room, all the looks he'd received, all the stares that had left him squirming were forgotten. "How...? Where did you…?"

The king looked very pleased as he stood just inside, out of Hermann's way. "What can I say? We take our magic seriously here."

The library at home was tucked into a tower, too low, too damp, so the books often got moldy and ruined. The books that were his favorites he often smuggled out to either copy by hand or do his best to preserve. Sometimes his sister helped him, but usually he was on his own, doing his best to not let his father catch him.

"I… I don't even know…"

"Feel free to come here whenever you'd like. Just please don't take any of the books out. The librarian is very specific about books remaining in the library. Even I need special permission."

Hermann looked back at the king. "Can I…?"

"Sure. What's mine is yours."

Choosing a spot to begin looking was impossible. There were simply so many books of all colors and sizes, he couldn't identify them by appearance alone the way he could at home. The most obvious thing to do was hurry to the nearest shelf, pull off as many books as he could carry and get started. "Blast it!"

"I don't make noise exceptions, no matter who you're married to!" a man that could only be the librarian snapped at him from behind an expansive desk.

This was followed by a glare that made Hermann whisper an apology and return to the king's side. "I need my spectacles to read," he said quietly.

"Here, we'll finish the tour and then go get your glasses. You can come back whenever you'd like." The king leaned over to whisper, "Even when Master Choi isn't here. But don't get on his bad side. He knows this library like the back of his hand."

With Hermann's head swimming with possibilities, he almost missed the king's hand on the small of his back as they left the library.

***

"I thought this would be a better vantage point for you. The stairs weren't…?"

"No, I'm fine." They were up on the wall walk, and when Hermann saw the open area below them, his hands clenched the stone, scraping his fingertips raw.

Children. Children below them in direct contact with dragons.

"They're training to be riders."

As casual as the king's statement was, Hermann was terrified watching the scene below.

"That's Master Hansen. He taught me how to ride." The king must have seen his face because he then said, "It's perfectly safe. Not every child can ride, no matter how great the teacher or how clever the student. These kids are special. That one." He leaned over, into Hermann, and pointed at one child. "That's Chuck, Master Hansen's son. He can be a little shit when he wants to, but he's a good kid."

"And the girl?"

"Mako. General Pentecost's daughter. Both of them are going to be very good. As soon as they find their dragon, I don't think they'll ever stop flying."

The obvious affection in his voice, so different from Hermann's father as king, managed to defuse the fear slightly. There was certainly no doubt that he'd never do something to put a child in danger on purpose. "Find their dragon?"

"Dragons have never been enslaved. We have a book of our history in the library if you-"

"No, I'd rather hear it from you. I can hear the sincerity."

The king tilted his head to the side and grinned. "I'm a pretty terrible liar. I leave a lot of that kind of tricky negotiation to my uncle. But it's like a treaty. They come to us because they want to, curiosity or whatever, especially the young ones. Look, that little one that Mako's with."

Little one. The creature was larger than the girl, with a long, thin body, neck and tail to match, and wide golden eyes. It was walking in a circle, the appearance of chasing its tail, while Mako kept trying to get hold of the iridescent fins that ran along its side. "Is-is that safe? She's so small."

"Oh yeah. That one's been with Mako since she started training. Don't know if they're a forever pair, but they're very close. That one with Chuck, that's his second, but it's not his."

"How do you know?"

The king shrugged. "I just do. Do you want to get closer? We can stay inside, just watch through the windows. The dragons don't come in."

"I don't think so."

"Maybe another time then."

***

The history book was the first one Hermann sought out with help from the librarian.

"Do not make a mark in this."

Hermann hugged the massive tome to his chest. "Of course not, Master Choi. I would never do such a thing to a book."

"Finally, someone who appreciates a book." He looked down at the book he was writing in before glancing back at Hermann. "No food or drink."

He could have told Hermann no breathing was allowed and a way would have been found to stay. Feeling like he was on floating, Hermann went to a single study carrel to sit and read.

 

"I shouldn't have been surprised."

Hermann looked up from the book to find the king standing behind him. He pulled off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. "How late is it?"

"Dinner. A good read?"

"Fascinating." Hermann closed the book, careful not to bend or fold the pages.  Standing was slightly difficult; he'd been in the same position for too long, his leg had stiffened.

Without saying a word, the king collected the book, carrying it with appropriate care, and returned it to the librarian's desk. "Thank you, Master Choi. I trust he wasn't too much trouble?"

"Of course not, your majesty. He has respect for this space."

"Tendo, your bad attitude lets me know you care."

Hermann looked over just in time to see the librarian's mouth turn up into a smile for a fraction of a second.

 

Instead of the dining hall, the king took him to the set of rooms adjacent to his chambers. These had windows, which made sitting down to eat a little more pleasant than the wide open display of the dining hall or the dark claustrophobia of the inner chambers. It was also the ante-room to the king's bathing chamber, which made it a little odd to be eating there, Hermann wasn't going to complain.

In fact, more than once he looked longingly into the other room with its large stone tub filled with actual steaming water. Hot water had been a luxury reserved for his father, while the best Hermann had ever managed was a small basin he'd squeezed himself into with a few buckets of lukewarm water he'd had to fetch himself.

Apparently he'd been caught, because the king said, "Uncle Ilja said having the bath separate like this is dangerous. A person is most vulnerable when they're relaxed and naked."

Looking back at his plate of food, Hermann nodded. "Yes, that makes sense."

"That's why I carry this at all times." With a jarring thud, the king stabbed the tabletop with a silvery blade a foot long. "I think you should probably have something of your own to carry."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly… That is, I wouldn't know at all what to do with it." Yes, he had killed a dragon. No, he had no idea how to use a knife. And certainly no way would he have any idea how to use it against a human being.

"My uncle taught me how to use it. I could ask Pentecost if he'd give you some lessons." The king resheathed the knife, hidden beneath his layers of clothing. "He's pretty awesome."

Hermann honestly didn't much like the idea, if only because he had no desire to draw a weapon against a person, or any living creature again. "If you think it's best."

"I do, for your own protection. Not as a punishment, you know, but because there are always going to be people who hate me or the kingdom or dragons or just need to feel big, and now you are right next to me on the list of 'things to do that people will talk about'. Well, you know, not to do."

The strangled noise of understanding was followed by a coughing fit.

"Yeah, we'll do that tomorrow. So much stuff to arrange that I never even thought about!"

Dabbing his mouth with a napkin, Hermann said, "Indeed." With his mouth dry and throat rough, Hermann licked his lips. Hands gripping his cutlery tightly, he asked, "Newt, if I may… A bath?"

The king smiled brightly. "Sure! I usually have Drake come in and shave me when I have a bath, but we can skip that tonight."

At that point, Hermann was far too embarrassed to protest, and knew it would either be brushed aside anyway or he would be reprimanded for suggesting they not bathe together.

"Maybe next time he can trim your hair up a little better too."

That made Hermann burn with humiliation. Ever since he'd been old enough to understand attraction and sexuality and that he would want to have sex with someone some day, the taunts of his siblings and his father's disappointment in his appearance had haunted him. He knew he wasn't attractive, and that he was the lesser son, and the quality of his haircut had always been obvious example of it. "I never… My father…" He sat up straight and looked the king in the eye. "It was what I was afforded."

The king looked curious at first, but then his green eyes softened. "And now you'll get something better."

Hermann eyed him hard, not entirely sure the king was truly being that nice. "Are you saying your hair is done in that manner on purpose?"

That rough day of trying to feel one another out had apparently been all the king needed. He wasn't offended in the least. "Yeah. Pretty cool, huh?"

"It is… something."

The rest of the meal was finished in companionable silence, though Hermann did down an extra cup or two of wine. Or maybe it was three. Whatever, it was enough to loosen his hesitation at bathing.

"You look a little…" The king mimed a kind of loose-limbed wobble. "Do you still want-"

"Oh yes." Standing required bracing his hands on the table, but walking wasn't bad, with just the edges of the world warping away at odd angles.

"Here, let me help you. You don't seem very good at holding your alcohol."

True most likely. Back home Hermann had never felt the need to drink anything more than a single cup for appearances at formal dinners. He'd never developed any sort of true tolerance like his siblings, and had probably proved himself a huge embarrassment after the ceremony.

"Let's get this."

"I'm an adult. I can undress myself."

"I know, but the crowns have to stay together, and not in the water."

Hermann frowned. "I'm not an idiot." He fumbled with the belt, flustered for a reason he couldn't pinpoint. "Lord this is tight."

"Please, Hermann, let me help. You're going to hurt yourself and won't even be able to have your bath."

When it was put like that, there was no refusing. The desire to get in that water and relax and feel something closer to himself for the first time since they'd rode out of the castle gates was so stupidly strong. "I'm sorry, Newt. I just… I miss-"

"No more wine for you. I don't think it's good for your state of mind."

Hermann leaned on the king with all his weight. "I hate my father."

"That's perfectly fine. No one will blame you for that, definitely not me or my uncles."

Taking a deep breath, gaining some semblance of composure, Hermann stood straight, only realizing then that the king had put his arm around him. "I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't drink, and I shouldn't be such a child and unburden my personal troubles on you."

The king didn't stop disrobing him. "I think you have a _lot_ to get off your chest, Hermann. And you can talk to me about it when you need to. I don't mind. It sounds like… It sounds like your home wasn't a very good place to grow up."

"Thank you, I'm capable now."

The king stepped back and nodded. "Anytime you feel like talking, I'll make time to listen." Then he started to undress like he didn't have a care in the world.

Hermann's fingers started to fumble again, and he finally had to turn his back when the king shed his heavy outer robe. The man was tiny. The robes had given him a bulk to counter his shorter stature, but without them… It was suddenly a race for him to get undressed and get in the water. Then he could just close his eyes and enjoy the feeling without either looking at the king or having the king see him

_He's already seen him, and more, but the alcohol has turned it into a story he's not even sure is about him._

and judge his physical worthiness. Because he wasn't a decent physical specimen by any stretch. He'd been too skinny before his injuries, and now he was just ugly. He hung up his clothing on the wooden pegs wedged into the wall, shrugged as he left his shirt and breechcloth on the floor, and climbed into the water.

"Feels nice, right?"

Oh yes, he'd definitely vocalized his feelings. "Better than I imagined." There was a lot of room in the tub, certainly more than enough for two of them without any contact required, so when the king made a little noise of excitement before a splash and the sudden feel of feet on Hermann's, he had to open his eyes.

Immediately he was greeted by the sight of the king popping up from where he'd been briefly submerged.

Looking relaxed and pleased, the king swept his wet hair back from his face and sighed. "I wish the weather would make up its mind. This cold damp is no fun."

Hermann could only stare.

A compact frame, not scrawny at all, with a healthy while not overwhelming patch of hair on his chest, and anything lower was obscured by the gently bubbling water. But it was the arms, all the way up to the shoulders, that drew Hermann's eyes back whenever he looked away. Tattoos were a rare thing to see at home on anyone but the criminal element, so to see the king decorated with them was something of a surprise.

The subject of the tattoos was not at all surprising though, and once Hermann was over the shock itself, he could appreciate the artistry these had been done with. He'd seen those on the men in the jail, dark, murky things with near indecipherable designs, but the king's were nothing like those. Dragons of differing shapes and sizes, in all colors of the rainbow wound from his wrists up to his shoulders, just starting to creep across his chest. The colors were bright and the images were clear, like nothing Hermann had seen before outside of the most well-done paintings.

"You like them?"

He'd been caught staring. "I've never seen anything like them before."

"I started getting them when I was sixteen. I only get one when something really important happens." He turned, showing his back. "That spot, between the two, across my shoulders…" He turned back. "That's for you. I don't know what yet, not like your face or anything because that's pretty tacky, but it'll be something. Something about you. About us."

Hermann was definitely blushing, but hoped it looked like a product of the heat. Even still, he said nothing, didn't even know where to begin. It was such a permanent thing.

"Turn around. I'll get your back."

A little shocked, wanting to decline if only because propriety, always propriety, told him he shouldn't. His body had the good sense to disobey, and he turned, putting his arms over the edge of the tub.

"The soap's a little rough, but if you ever really get down in it, whatever it is, it'll clean it right off. And there's an oil to rub in after. It'll make you smell and feel like a million gold coins."

Hermann tensed as the water moved around him and he felt the king move closer. His shoulders were impossibly tense, waiting for the first touch, but he couldn't help himself. The soap was rough as promised, and the king's hands were business-like. It wasn't as relaxing as it could have been, but he still felt the accumulated grunge of the past two days come off, the stink of the mohn sweat replaced by something gentle and floral.

"Now do me."

Of course. At least Hermann wasn't so stunned by the request that he could turn smoothly and take the offered soap. The king took the same position Hermann had, but he was completely relaxed, and put his head on his crossed arms.

"Aren't you worried I might do something to you?" Hermann approached, lathering the soap in his hands.

"We found your knife, Hermann, and since you haven't asked about it, I assumed you weren't planning on using it on me."

Hermann froze.

"Fancy little thing. Was that your magic, or someone else's?"

"My sister." The words came out hardly more than a whisper. "She was worried. For me. We'd heard so many stories…"

"Of course you did. If you want, you can have it back."

Now he was embarrassed though, and shook his head. "No, it was… an insult."

"I understand, really. It _is_ yours."

"I couldn't possibly. It just wouldn't feel right. And you said that's something to not bring up again, so I'd just rather not." To turn conversation away from that, which he'd appreciated when Karla had given it to him, Hermann very carefully ran his soapy hands across the king's back. "Won't this damage your…"

"Only if they're new. It's good."

Erring on the side of caution, Hermann didn't apply much pressure, letting the grittiness of the soap do most of the work. No doubt part of his awkwardness had been because of Hermann's inability to bond with his siblings, especially his brothers. They had not much in common, with his interest in magic and less in pleasing their father. Conversation that centered on whatever physical challenges they faced in training, or who had the better prospect of becoming next in line for the throne (which Hermann's name never factored into), or whatever "maiden" had caught their eye at dinner. And Karla… Father insisted the boys kept separate from their sister because… Just because.

It wasn't something he'd ever admitted to, because it was just something private, but there came a point when his father had started to frown at him on a regular basis. A point when his father asked certain things of his brothers, but not himself. A certain point when he had very obviously fallen out of favor and nothing Hermann had done changed that.

As awkward as this bath situation was, Hermann's hands memorized the feel of every inch of flesh beneath them, even venturing down the arms. It wasn't smart to let physical desires cloud his mind, but that would make things so much simpler, he was sure. Just give in to them, or at least let them temper his fear. If this was what the king wanted of him, then he _could_ enjoy it if he allowed himself.

But. Always a but.

He moved away, leaving the hunk of soap on the wide rim of the tub. "I hope that's satisfactory."

"Perfect." the king turned, looking very pleased indeed. He grabbed the soap and quickly scrubbed the rest of himself down, neck all the way down to his feet, which he held above the water line to clean. He scrubbed at his scalp, getting his hair thick with lather, then ducked under the water briefly to rinse it. "Take as long as you want. I'm going..." He pointed vaguely in the direction of the bed chambers.

Apparently he wasn't entirely comfortable with the arrangement either, which was easier for Hermann to deal with because he was used to that reaction. He averted his eyes as the king stood and climbed out of the tub. From a small cabinet to the side that had gone unnoticed, the king pulled out something like a shift. The way it stuck to his skin when he put it on told Hermann it was cloth rather than more leather, which made sense if he was going to sleep in it.

"Really, as long as you want," the king said as he put on one of his heavier robes. "Enjoy yourself. There's another one in there for you when you're done." Then, feet bare, hair wet and messy, he left Hermann alone.

 

Hermann stayed in the water until the light outside was reduced to a faint glow from the various exterior lights of the castle itself. The sky was well dark, though he wasn't quite able to see any stars. The shift he pulled from the cabinet was warm and dry, and he smiled even though it did stick to his wet skin. He followed the king's lead, and left all his clothing except for his his robe there, before returning to the bedchambers.

The king was in bed, sitting up with a small book in his hands. He was wearing a pair of spectacles as well, much to Hermann's surprise. Also, to Hermann's relief, he didn't look up as Hermann entered.

There was one detail that had his heart pounding, making all his previous vaguely hopeful thoughts sink: discarded upon the floor was the loose shift. It was a fierce debate about what he should do, if he should strip as well, or wear _something_ , anything. And in the end, when he was at the side of the bed with room for him, he knew there was no choice.

What the king desired, he would have. Trying not to show his fear, Hermann shed all his clothing, his cheeks burning with embarrassment (but at least it wasn't shame, because he knew that too), and slid into bed. Without being too obvious, he stayed as far away from the king as possible while keeping well under the warm blankets.

Even as Hermann lay there, nauseated with the worry that the king would _want_ something, he felt sleep pull at him, tug him down into the darkness and warmth and exhaustion from the stress. Finally he succumbed, without the king ever moving from his own spot in the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> echoisles.tumblr.com  
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

Hermann made sure to put the chain attached to his spectacles around his neck before he continued putting on the many layers of clothing he was expected to wear. Breakfast, then a brief visit to the blacksmith with the king, then he had all the time in the library he wanted.

"I got something for you. I figured someone so in love with a library like that needed a notebook of their own. And since you didn't bring one with you…" The king was holding out a book.

With more than just a little awe, Hermann said, "Thank you, Newt. I-I didn't have one because my father-"

"Ugh, just stop talking about him. You know what, I don't care. Whatever backwards way he wants to run his kingdom he's welcome to, but Hermann, you're part of _this_ kingdom now. You want to study magic?"

Hermann gave a small, slow nod.

"Then study it. Magic is a powerful tool not everyone has the talent to use. We need to encourage the study and responsible use of it, not make it something shameful, or a crime." The king grinned, still holding the book out. "What kind of terrible person would I be, using magic of my own, to make other people stop using it? And here, take it. You'll have to get your own quill though. Tendo always tells me that's something you need to find yourself, fit your fingers and all that. I just use whatever's on hand."

Before he could continue to prattle on, Hermann took the book, and immediately marveled at the texture of the cover. It was leather, soft, but tough, and it had his name burned into it. As he ran his fingers over it, he could feel the gentle buzzing of magic. "Is this…?"

"Had a focal spell put on it, just for you."

Releasing the buckle, the book, much larger than its weight would indicate, fell open to reveal page after page of potential. Just blank paper ready for him to write whatever he wanted on.

"You want to keep a journal, notes, drawings of kittens, it's up to you."

"You have kittens here?"

"Sure, they're all over the place. Helps keep the vermin under control."

"How do kittens survive in a place full of dragons?" _Kittens_.

The king made a dismissive noise. "Dragons don't eat kittens."

"Of course they don't. Perhaps that will be the first thing I write in this." Or maybe he'd try to describe the king's eyes, saving several pages for it so he could add whenever a thought struck him.

"So, breakfast?"

Again Hermann had been staring while he'd absently been stroking the book in his hands. "yes, of course." He shut the book, latched the buckle, and set it on the desk.

 

Breakfast was a far less awkward situation the second time through. The king's uncle was still rude and crass, but Hermann hadn't heard anything worse from his brothers, so he just smiled mildly and let the questions roll off his back.

"He's not one to kiss and tell, eh?"

"Most people," the king said, sounding more bored by the discussion again, "keep their bedchambers a private place."

But Ilja leaned in closer. "So you've not given him a taste of the-"

For whatever reason, this was the comment that got Hermann's back up. He cleared his throat, interrupting the man. "His majesty was a gentleman, an admirable trait not shared by my father." Ha, that shut the man up.

"Well pardon me, _your highness_."

"That's enough. You can't arrange a marriage and then blame the one that got forced into it."

"Of course, your majesty." The king's uncle bowed in his seat, but then glared at Hermann. "I'm watching you, boy."

"Enough!" the king barked, sharper and louder than Hermann had heard previously. "He's not a boy, and neither am I. You're ruining breakfast. It's been two days and I'm tired of hearing this."

The man stood abruptly, his chair squealing as it was pushed back. "Pardon me, your majesty. I have things to attend to."

The king kept his focus on his plate of food, so Hermann did as well. When the man was gone and the sounds of regular conversation returned, Hermann said quietly, "Thank you, your majesty."

The lack of reply was not the only indication that the king was now in a sour mood. He remained silent all through the meal and after as they made their way down to the blacksmith. There were actually a small fleet of them, working on everything from horseshoes to weapons to the small buckles that were on so many pieces of clothing.

Nobody looked at them, all concentrating on their work, which was such a contrast to home. Wherever Hermann's father stepped, people dropped what they were doing to kneel and bow. It wasn't until they were standing right in front of a man that looked like he was carved from the mountain itself that they were paid any mind.

"Yer majesty."

The king seemed… deferential almost to this man. "I was wondering if you could take time out to make um… my, uh, husband a dagger or something befitting his station and himself."

The man crossed his arms and drew himself to his full height, dwarfing them both. "Befitting a dragon slayer?"

Hermann wanted to slink away in shame even before the king actually struck the big man across the face. It did no damage, of course, didn't even leave a mark, but it was enough of a show of his power that the man's demeanor changed.

"He's renounced those ways and joined our kingdom. So I repeat, I want you to make a dagger befitting of his position as _your_ prince."

And Hermann still _wanted_ to slink away, but he followed the king's lead and stood firm. Not challenging, simply appearing secure in himself and his station.

"Yes, yer majesty." The blacksmith gestured to Hermann. "Give me yer hand."

Sure that it would shortly be crushed into powder, Hermann held out his hand anyway, doing his best to hide his fear. The blacksmith's hands were rough as they felt his his right hand, all the joints and small bones in it.

"What did you use?" the man asked quietly.

"Excuse me?"

Dark eyes looked into his, not quite angry, but not friendly either. "To kill the dragon. What did you use?"

"Uh, a spear my father had specially forg-"

His answer was cut off by a loud snort as the blacksmith shook his head. "Renounced yer ways?"

"I never wanted to. I was never interested in his throne."

Finally, the man softens slightly and smiles at him as he releases his hand. "You might yet get it. A week, yer majesty."

"Thank you. Come on, Hermann. I've got someone else you want to talk to."

It turned out to be the physician. "I'm feeling fine, your majesty."

"Just come on. Doctor!"

The room was small, but well appointed with various books and medicinal supplies Hermann could not identify. But this was obviously just a study, not where any medicine took place; there was no bed or any other place for a patient.

"Hermann needs a quill!"

"What? I don't-"

"You do. The doctor here has the best collection of different quills for all his doctory stuff."

The old man drew his bushy gray eyebrows together and leveled a flat stare at the king. "Really, your majesty. 'Doctory stuff'?"

The king smiled, unabashed. "Can we look through what you have?"

Hermann had never seen a king smile so much.

There was continued banter between them that Hermann had no context for, so spent the few minutes he was waiting just looking around. Researching the more magical elements of modern medicine was starting to look more and more fascinating the more he saw.

"Here, Hermann. Try these out."

The two had several different feathers laid out on the physician's desk. A pair he recognized from home, one an unremarkable white with a brown tip a foot long, and the other mottled gray and white, slightly smaller. The other feathers he didn't recognize, some in bright colors that he didn't even think were possible on a bird. "What do I do?"

"Just hold them, see which one is most comfortable. If you're going to be writing a lot, you need to have a quill that fits your hand, right?"

That made sense actually. Since most of his magical education had been either somewhat clandestine or done all on his own, no one had ever told him a thing about quills. Honestly, he'd thought they were all the same.

"They're not cut, of course, but I think you'll get the general feel of them this way." The man looked closely at Hermann. "You just used…?"

Now _how_ seriously they took their quills seemed odd, especially when Hermann picked up the two familiar feathers. They felt just like the ones at home. But then he tried a short black feather, and frowned. It was too thin, and just didn't fit in between his fingers well. The next one was white with both blue and black at the tip, but it didn't feel right either, but for no reason he could pinpoint.

And so it went, through the entire collection, until Hermann had only one odd looking feather left. It was wide, looking more decorative than useful for flight. It was a deep sapphire except at the tips, where it was almost scarlet. As his fingers curled around it, the calmus seemed to fit perfectly against the callous of his middle finger, with just the right thickness so that he didn't have to pinch it too tightly.

"This one," Hermann said, the words out before truly thinking about it.

The king and the physician looked at one another before the physician shrugged. "Can you trim it yourself?" the old man asked him.

"Yes." It was almost impossible to take his eyes off it once he'd felt it in his hand, like a direct extension of his fingers. "What kind of bird did it come from? It must be from a far off land."

"It didn't come from a bird, Hermann. I came from a dragon."

That statement should have caused him to drop the thing, but his grip stayed firm. "Dragons have feathers?"

The king laughed quietly before he put his hand on Hermann's arm to lead him away. "Some do. And now I think you have some quality time in the library waiting for you. Thanks, Doc."

A feather. It went against everything Hermann knew about dragons. Everything his father had taught him, everything his brother and sister had told him. Certainly the one he had faced hadn't had any kinds of feathers. This was something else he'd have to research, but with that library, he knew he wouldn't have any problem.

Stepping through the door was like magic in itself after the tiny, dark space he'd been used to at home. He didn't need to open a single book to feel the magic all around him, making the scrabbling desire to absorb it all in his brain go wild. There was not a single circumstance that could make Hermann truly care about ruling or dragons; magic might as well have been his blood.

Leaving the king at the doorway, without a look back, Hermann went to the librarian's desk. "Master Choi, please, do you have a knife I can trim my quill with." He held the object out as explanation.

The man, dressed modestly, but sharply in gray-blue, let out a low whistle at the sight. Without a word, he reached into his desk and pulled out a small knife meant specifically for dressing quills.

Standing right there, Hermann trimmed the feather just enough to hold properly and give himself enough to write with.

"You're not planning on writing in any books, right?"

"Of course not!"

With the only evidence of doubt being his pursed lips, the librarian retrieved a bottle of ink from his desk and pushed it over to Hermann. "Feel free to use it, but-"

"Not in the books, of course." Hermann looked back to tell the king he was fine to be left alone, but discovered he'd already left. And that was when he realized he didn't have his journal (he was officially calling it a journal), so his new quill would have to remain unused for the time being. With a sigh, he pushed the ink back to the librarian. "I'm sorry, Master Choi, I've forgotten my journal. I'll just be reading today."

"History again?"

"What better place to start? The beginning is the most important point in any journey."

The librarian pulled the book out from a nook at the side of the desk and handed it over. "I prefer the destination myself."

Taking the book, Hermann smiled at the man, enjoying the feel of it in his hands. "There's much to be said for that as well."

The single carrel had almost immediately become "his" even though there wasn't anything specific about that Hermann preferred. Much like the quill, it just felt right, cozy and comfortable. If this was magic, it was of a kind he never imagined existed. Hermann spared only a brief curse for his father before getting lost in the history of the dragon kingdom.

 

"Dinner?"

It was like waking up from a long, satisfying sleep. Hermann blinked up at the king. "Is it so late?"

"It is. I stopped by at lunch, but you didn't respond to anything I said."

As if to confirm this, Hermann's stomach growled. "Thank you, your majesty. I am…" He could live and die in this library and be happy about it.

"Your magic was showing. How often do you use it?'

Showing? Perhaps that was why his father disliked him so much. "I didn't even know that could happen. I only used it at home in private since-"

"Your father was afraid. Silly. I want you to practice it as often as you'd like. If there's something you need, please just ask. Hermann, I trust you, no matter what my uncle or anyone else says. That is the only thing that matters. And…" Words seemed to fail him as he hung his head. "I want you to make me a list of the things you need to be comfortable here. This is your home now."

"I appreciate your hospitality, truly, but I need more time to acclimate. I feel like you showing me so much favoritism will only engender more anger toward me." Gifts were the last thing he wanted when he was already doing his best to remain as uninteresting to the castle population as possible. If he could discard the showy robes for something more drab and uninteresting, Hermann would in an instant. "But I'll think it over and let you know as things come to mind."

***

Newt escorted Hermann back to their chambers after dinner, his hand on the small of his back though he couldn't feel much through the many, many layers of clothing. It had never been made clear why there had to be so much bulk to the robes, only that it had been something started when the castle had been hardly more than a wooden palisade at the mouth of a cave.

Probably to stop the king (hey, there'd been queens as well) from ravaging his new bride at every opportunity (same sex ruling marriages were far more rare, but not completely unheard of).

_It is well within his right to take what he wants as the king, and it always will be. Nobody within the kingdom has the right to refuse him, and, help him, it is a tempting thing to take advantage of._

They stopped at the door. "Go on. I'll be a few minutes."

Hermann looked at him, concerned, but then went through it.

Without a second look, Newt went into the secondary chambers, into the back corner away from the windows, and started to strip. He was king, but he was still a man, still had basic desires, and his decency wouldn't allow him to abuse his rights as king.

Rights. It was power, and to use that power against his own people for his personal gain… Both his mother and father would be disappointed if that was a road he chose to go down. So he would do what he'd been doing since he was old enough to know what to do with it.

***

It was silly to worry, but Hermann couldn't help himself. He was always worried except when he was lost in a book. He wasn't an anxious or nervous person in general, but nobody else seemed to see the same things in the world around them that he did. Whether it was a product of his magic, or his magic was born from desire to see changes come about.

Unfortunately, his magic did nothing in this situation, where the king had seemed almost eager to return to _their_ chambers, and then abandoned him.

Was he going to do it? Was he going to invoke his power as king, and require Hermann to… Well.

Quietly Hermann stepped out into the hallway, and of course his first assumption would be the doorway to his immediate left. Empty. And then into the bath, where he stopped and fervently hoped he hadn't been heard.

The king was down to his undershirt and trousers, robes discarded. He was facing the wall, but the noise and motion of his arm were enough for Hermann to know what was happening. So the king would not…

Hermann retreated, silently. He removed most of his layers, not as far as the king had, but enough to be comfortable in private. This was a good opportunity to put his journal and quill to use. His brothers would have laughed at how eager he was to do so, that it was something he looked forward to.

_How often he'd wanted to ask if he was truly his father's son, or some horrible accident nobody ever spoke of. But how could he question his mother's honor in that way, no matter how little connection he felt to his brothers and father?_

His journal remained blank when the king returned, undressed completely and got into bed.

It was an odd thing, as his quill started to scratch the paper, how early the king retired. That he wore spectacles. That he read a book before bed. That he had no desire to force Hermann to do what he didn't want. That he cared so much about Hermann's comfort.

Why did he care when his own father never had?

_Dragons don't eat kittens._

It was a foolish way to begin his journal, but he had plenty of time to add to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> echoisles.tumblr.com  
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

They'd moved to a small study room just off the library. The kids looked at him with suspicion, and Chuck threw in some blatant dislike to go with it.

Hermann looked at the books, ignoring the looks for the time being. These were the things the kids were being taught apparently that he was supposed to continue with. Basics, but they were basic because they were the most important things for a foundation of learning. He made the choice what to start with, not bothering to ask the children what they'd been working on.

"The king says you're riders in training. As important as that is for the kingdom, you should realize it's also important to keep your minds sharp. Think of your minds like knives: as you grow older they gain the capacity for more destruction, but if you don't maintain them, they grow dull. Assuming you've taken care of them in the first place."

Mako appeared to be drinking in his words. Chuck looked less than impressed.

"Did you kill a dragon?" If the looks weren't enough, the question confirmed the boy's opinion.

And lying wouldn't do. "I did."

Chuck sat back and crossed his arms. "I don't like you."

Fair enough. "I'm not proud of it. If your father told you to do something, would you do it?"

Both children nodded, though Mako was more enthusiastic.

"And if your king ordered to do something, would you do it?"

"Of course. You don't disobey the king." Mako appeared nearly scandalized by the idea that someone would _not_ obey the king.

Chuck only nodded.

And if your father, the king, gives you an order? Do you disobey?"

Mako's eyes grew wide. There was no need for her to answer; it was obvious.

But Chuck's response was the one Hermann was more interested in. The boy scowled and looked away. Finally, he said, reluctantly and under his breath, "Do what he says."

"And my father, the king, told me to go kill a dragon, so I did. It is part of our duty, to our parents, to our leaders, even when it's not something we wish to do." Hermann got out his quill, careful to treat it so the children would see how important it was to do for themselves. "You both have strong connections to dragons, and you always will. If I had been raised in your circumstances, perhaps I would as well. But that is a topic for another day. Now, let's start with some reading."

***

"The longer he waits, tries to be _nice_ , the more the people will lose confidence in him!"

"You're being silly. He exerts his will when he needs to, and people are seeing that now that we have… contention in the castle."

Ilja snorted, drumming his fingers on the table. "That boy is more than a contention. He's-"

"He's fitting in, or at least trying to. It might go better, Ilja, if you stopped riling the two of them up."

"Quit coddling him, Gunter! They need some riling! That fiend to the south of us needs to see his son a broken object, just like what we'll do to his entire kingdom if he tries any of his stupidly obvious plans!" The strength that he hit the table with his fist caused an empty cup to fall over and roll off the edge.

"You want Newt, our Newt, to start raping people now. I think you've lost sight of the battles you're _supposed_ to be fighting. Can't you see it in his face? The way he stood up to you? He wants to like him. He _does_ like him, and wants the same in return." Gunter fell silent and stared at the books open in front of him, thinking. "Give it some time. Acceptance can turn the tide of a young man's loyalties faster than threats. And I think Newt's got the measure of him down. Have some faith in your nephew."

"I do," Ilja admitted. "I just don't have it in anyone that comes from the south."

***

Mako bowed deeply before she left. Apparently she had accepted his explanation and was ready to move forward.

On the other hand, Chuck was still, obviously, unconvinced, though he had been reduced to frowning without real malice the entire time. He'd also done all the work asked of him. They both had, and they'd done it well, so it was a success on all fronts.

And with the children gone, that meant Hermann had all the time in the library to himself now. He could have stayed in the study room, with the privacy and larger table, but he preferred the carrel among the shelves and books. Anywhere else, he might have wanted to be hidden away, remove himself from the curious and accusatory looks. In the library, none of it mattered; it was a separate world.

Hermann took the opportunity, as he returned the books to the librarian's desk, to ask a question. "Master Choi, I was wondering if you could help me. I had a thought at breakfast, and I was wondering if you might have any books that correspond to it." Opening his journal to the page of his sketches, Hermann showed them to the librarian. "Numbers. Lines. Points connected to make shapes. Have you seen anything like that?"

Making a thoughtful sound, the man looked carefully over the sketches and numbers. "Not this specifically, but if you give me a day, I can find some things close to it." He pushed the journal back. "Very interesting."

"Thank you, Master Choi." He took back the journal. "Something different today, I think. Something about… dragons?"

***

It was afternoon lessons for the children, working directly with Master Hansen. Newt liked to watch whenever he got the opportunity, remembering his own time training. More often than not he watched from afar, to not distract anyone, but this day he felt like he needed to get closer. Part of it was wanting to talk to the kids when they were done, but he was feeling in a surprisingly good mood.

Even still, he hung back indoors while the kids were coached on the correct posture while in the saddle. None of them were bad memories, but posture… Posture every lesson. Even when Newt didn't assume the proper posture, he still remembered it. And as the kids got older, they'd understand that this was just a foundation because each dragon was different. The best posture was not the same for each of them.

"Hands!" Master Hansen barked as Mako's arms started to sag.

"No one rides a dragon like this, Dad!"

Newt grinned. However true it was, that was not going to fly with Master Hansen.

"You don't learn, you won't be riding one at all! Now show me your hands!"

With a huff, Chuck turned his hands, which also turned the reigns. It was a subtle thing that went unnoticed until a dragon got feisty, or needed precise guidance.

"This isn't your pony, Chuck. It's a dragon, and if you can't control it, it will throw you off on the top of mountain if you're lucky. If you're not lucky, you'll drop a thousand feet to the ground. How does that sound?"

"No good." Sullen and pouting, Chuck still got his hands in the proper position.

This continued for another fifteen minutes until the day's lesson was over (it always ended with the unfun things, to get the kids eager to get on with their day). The heavy hit of nostalgia was unexpected, but Newt understood it to.

He'd had a lot of fun when he was that age, and currently, he was having not very much fun at all. The responsibilities of the crown were one thing, and he'd gotten used to them with help from his uncles, but this arranged marriage was proving to be… Well, he hadn't assumed he'd actually be in love with his spouse when the idea had come up, but he hadn't thought it would be this complicated either.

It was impossible, though, to get honest answers out of Hermann. He was going to defer to whatever the king wanted, to the point of not even answering honestly when ordered. Hermann was going to turn everything back on Newt himself, and leave them in the same position.

But he pushes that all away when Chuck and Mako head in, carrying their small saddles. "Hey, kids! You two almost look like seasoned riders!" Even though they hadn't cared for the posture drills, they both were red-cheeked and looked happy.

They bowed clumsily, still smiling and holding their saddles.

"Why don't you go take care of those? I want to ask you some questions after you're done."

"About the prince?"

No doubt Pentecost had his hands full with such a clever little girl.

"Yes, and you two, how things went and all."

"I don't like him," Chuck said, and marched past him to take care of the saddle. "He killed a dragon. I don't like people who kill dragons."

"He said he didn't have a choice!"

"You _like_ him!"

"He's a good teacher." Mako looked up at Newt. "He didn't talk to us like kids."

"She has a crush on a dragon slayer!"

"Chuck, that's not nice. I get why you don't like him, but you don't have to. Did he teach you things?"

That was ignored by the boy as he went about the process of hanging the saddle.

Mako looked at Chuck, then at Newt. She smiled widely and nodded.

"Good. And Chuck, that attitude will affect your riding. You need to work that anger out." Not stuck on ceremony with the kids, Newt left them without waiting for any formalities. It helped, a little, to know things had gone well, that Mako liked Hermann and Chuck didn't for understandable reasons.

Honestly, there wasn't much more Newt could do. At least not until Hermann had gotten over his fear of dragons (assuming he ever did). He supposed his nights weren't lonely any longer, just frustrating.

***

There was a page in Hermann's journal that he reserved for the king. For Newt. It had definitely started with his eyes, green, but with a brown and gold starburst in the middle. And not emerald green, because that would be easy. They were more subtle in their color, more complex, far more mesmerizing.

And then it was his hair, though Hermann had no direct knowledge of it other than appearance. This was focused very firmly on the bath, what it looked like wet, slicked back, half-dry, and how much Hermann wanted the person with that hair to sweep him off his feet.

The tattoos. How his skin felt. How utterly terrified Hermann was to be near him and remain in control of himself. That was the point he started to wonder if his food was laced with something, if they'd given him something to make him more pliable, to make him want Newt so desperately. The uncle, perhaps, who wanted nothing more than see him reduced to a subservient puppet, because certainly Newt wouldn't…

Or would he? Hermann stared at the page of lovesick notes he'd made about the king. People had two sides, private and public. Even his father did, though they weren't that different. So what were the two sides to the king? But there was one point in his memory that remained a blank, one memory of the king that wasn't there for him. He thought he'd been too drunk, blacked out, but perhaps it had been more.

With a sudden and sick feeling, Hermann packed up his things and returned his book to the desk before hurrying out. He had a silent shadow, a guard that followed him everywhere and had never said a word. Today he would be of some use. "I need to see the physician. Can you take me to him?"

The guard's face is thankfully expressionless. If he has an opinion about the dragon slayer under his watch, he doesn't show it at all. "Of course, sir."

It's Hermann's turn to follow the guard, and they make their way through the maze of the castle that he hasn't learned nearly enough of. They end up at the place Hermann remembered from the previous day, though he still couldn't say how to get there. After a knock, Hermann entered the office.

"Oh, I'm surprised to see you here." The physician is sitting behind the desk, several books open in front of him. His fingers were stained with ink, and there was a smudge of it on his cheek as well. "Did you need a new quill?"

"No, sir. I was wondering if you have something that can… clear my memory?"

One bushy eyebrow rose.

Hermann clenched his hands together. "I need to know. I need to know if he was cruel." That page would be torn out and thrown in a fire if that turned out to be true. Then this life would be a duty, that he would perform, but with no silly thoughts about what things could be like.

"I believe I have one of those that will do what you ask. You're sure?"

"I am."

The physician swung back a rack of dried herbs to reveal a cabinet behind them. Inside them were an assortment of bottles, all sizes and shapes, affixed with delicate labels. Without even needing to look through them, he pulled out a dark green bottle. "You'll find whatever missing memories are still hiding in your dreams tonight. I can't guarantee it, as some things happen in a brain to make thoughts lost forever, but of they're there to find…"

Without hesitation (because he might abandon the idea completely), Hermann took the bottle and drank it down. "Thank you, sir." He wasn't going to dwell on it; it didn't matter. In fact, he was just going to head back to the library and lose himself in a book until it was time for bed.

***

The world tilted even though his feet were flat on the floor. The king's hand was warm and strong on his arm as they walked. Hermann looked down at the floor and felt dizzy, staggering until arms locked around his waist.

"Be careful."

The words were like a ghost. If he hadn't had so much to drink, he probably would have been hard. He was so starved for for something outside his tiny, unfulfilling life under his father's thumb, and here it was. And the king was… his eyes were so beautiful it embarrassed him to look into them.

And then he was a stumbling idiot, couldn't even stay on his feet as the king helped him sit on the edge of the bed. He was still wearing that helmet; Hermann wasn't even sure there was a man beneath it, except for the hands that began to undress him. Hands, not claws, not a dragon. Nimble fingers opening clasps

_He thinks he remembers this._

before they trailed across the skin of his shoulders and pushed his robes down.

"Are you ready for this?"

His robes were completely open and pooled around his waist, leaving him exposed. His hands shook as he reached up and removed the helmet, finally putting a face to those eyes and hands. The king stepped away then, leaving the helmet in his hands, and began to undress.

The metal was cold, the dragon's face a menacing snarl, but the eyes are empty and lifeless. An ugly thing, a monster. He was struck suddenly by how those eyes, devoid of anything resembling a living spirit, reminded him of his father.

His father was the very monster they were all so terrified of.

_His thoughts on this matter are surprisingly clear._

"I hope you don't mind."

He looked up, barely a glance's worth of seeing, before his eyes closed with a hand on his cheek and a mouth covering his. It moved quickly after that, a testament to how desperate he was for escape. Or just how drunk and what a _schlampe_ he truly was, but he didn't care.

_Unsurprising. After being denied his sexuality for thirteen years, of course this is how he reacts to someone wanting him: hard and desperate._

The king took what the king wanted, and pushed him back to the bed and took the helmet from him. It hit the floor with a thud, and made him open his eyes to look to the side of the bed.

"I don't want to hurt you, but we have to do this."

His head was swimming, his body was buzzing; he felt open and ready. Wanting. With an extreme lack of eloquence, he said, "Yeah." This was for the king though, so he relaxed, his eyes closing.The king's breath was hot on his neck, hands insistent as they ran down his sides, and there was the tease of hot, straining shaft that made him jerk his hips.

A whimper, but whether from him or the king, he didn't know. Slick and warm, a hand was on him, very gently, a finger testing and then inside him. That moan was definitely coming from himself.

_The scent that had been on him in the morning, the oil._

He winced, whined and clutched at the bed coverings as the king clutched his hips.

_The king is as gentle as can be expected, and from the look on his own face, he actually falls asleep before the king is finished, and the dream fades._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> echoisles.tumblr.com  
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

It was kind of adorable the way Hermann was buried in blankets, with only the top of his head showing. Newt just watched the covered lump that was his husband sleep, the heavy fur blanket making it appear he was a sleeping bear instead of a man.

His magic gave him an affinity for dragons, but they were not a replacement for people. Newt was not like his mother; he couldn't go and live in the mountains without other people. Yes, dragons were intelligent, and yes, he could speak to him. Maybe if he'd been raised by his mother, up in those mountains, his outlook would be different, but Newt found he was very comfortable where he was.

Hot baths, good food, really, the creature comforts were thing. And now, if he could ever figure out how to make it work, he had someone to stay for. There'd been many times he wished his father were still alive, but maybe not more than now. His father… His father had been bold enough to approach the Dragon Lady in the mountains, amongst the dragons, and ask for her hand.

This was legend.

She'd said no, couldn't live among humans any longer, but she'd promised him an heir. His father's temperament, his mother's magic, Newt had been born to be the Dragon King.

It was all in the books, but they didn't say that the Dragon King had no idea how to make someone like him.

Lightly, Newt let his hand rest on Hermann's shoulder. When he stroked, he was petting the fur, but Hermann was under there, warm and safe, and hopefully happy. Or as happy as he could be under the circumstances. By his own estimation, he was not a bad guy and the kingdom was a nice place. Anyone could be happy here, and ultimately that was his responsibility. That's what prosperity and security really boiled down to, because expanding for the sake of expanding seemed silly and far too much trouble.

The kingdom had survived this long, not only from being under the protection of dragons, but by simply maintaining their way of life. Yes, if one of their neighbors tried to take advantage of the relaxed nature, there would be pushing (something his uncle just loved, and Pentecost was always prepared for), but taking land by force was just not something in their nature.

It was lucky for the dragon slayers this was true, or quite possibly they would have been eliminated a long time ago. And if that had happened, Newt probably wouldn't be staring like a forlorn dog at the back of the man in his bed, eyelids drooping as he approached sleep again.

Again he thought that maybe he should just be forward, tell Hermann what he wanted. That was the simplest, instead of trying to play this game that left them both in a state of uncertainty. If only there hadn't been this imbalance of power between th

***  
Hermann woke up with the weight of an arm over his side. He was still nestled well under the blankets, and even though they were pinched between their two bodies, there was no mistaking what was currently pressing into his buttocks area. But the soft, slow breathing meant the king was asleep, so with hurried and careful movement, Hermann slid out of bed.

Quietly, pausing when the quiet creak of the wardrobe door made the king shift in bed, Hermann gathered clothing before slipping out of into the hall. The guards didn't twitch a muscle, thankfully since he was naked with only a handful of cloth to maintain his modesty, and he padded to the bath. The water was still steaming, which had him wondering how they could manage such a thing, but pleased anyway. A hot bath any time he wanted…

It felt like an impossible dream, especially in a cool, damp castle that stood against the winds coming down from the snow-capped mountains. And when the weather was bad, the ache flaring in his wounds, being able to soak in the heat instead of haphazardly applying fire-heated rocks to his flesh would be a godsend.

Sitting in the water, letting the heat permeate him to his soul, Hermann relaxed in the silence. The sky outside the window, looking out over the green fields that stretched to the thick forest, the horizon was turning golden. It wouldn't be long before the sun light the room and make the lamps unnecessary. There was a luxury here that was unfamiliar, perhaps because it was still a foreign place to him; even as royalty at home, he'd never truly felt like it.

This was what he had imagined for so long it felt like to be _special_.

When the sun finally cleared the horizon, found its way through the window and shone on his face, Hermann decided he'd been in the water long enough. He made a quick pass over himself with the soap, scratching at his scalp and flattening his hair, then removed himself from the tub. Bathing in the morning was his preference, because he felt ready for the day, positive about things to come.

Assuming he was to tutor the children again, he was relaxed and ready to take on that task, even Chuck's reluctance and dislike. They were willing to learn, and they were good learners too; it made them the only two children Hermann had ever not disliked.

"Good morning, Hermann. How'd you sleep?"

He got the shift on, at least, before he jumped in surprise. Feeling caught and guilty, Hermann looked at the king. "Good morning, Newt. I slept well., thank you." Hermann kept his eyes averted, though he continued to glance from the corner of his eyes.

That dream that wasn't a dream.

Hermann's stomach was in knots as he watched the king quickly rinse himself. There was no thick muscle to be seen, but enough that could be seen as arms and shoulders moved, the brief press of a backbone as the body bent, the clench of buttocks… Face burning, very obviously half-hard, Hermann hurried out before he could be discovered. There was no way he was going to be a slave to his bodily desires (as much as he would have liked) and embarrass himself.

When the king (eventually he would get it in his head that his name was Newt) returned to their chambers, Hermann was almost finished dressing. The lightness and simplicity of his old robes was missed, but he'd had no choice but to adapt. And honestly, the tightness of the leather beneath the robes made him feel powerful, like an actual warrior. "Newt, am I to tutor the children again today?"

"I was hoping you'd be willing to do it on a more permanent basis. You are smarter than their previous teacher, and you actually got Chuck to do his work even though he doesn't like you. Or says he doesn't like you." The king smiled, more to himself than anything. "Little shit."

"I… Of course, Newt. It would be my honor."

"Now you're just saying it. If you don't want to-"

"I do." As much as the lure of keeping himself nose-first in books until he died called to him, this was purpose, and one that he felt surprisingly adept at. "I'm not saying that to appease you."

"Oh, well, that's nice. Yeah. Same time and place as yesterday?" The king looked flustered, for some reason, his fingers fumbling with the buckle of his vest.

"Of course, the library. I'll be there." Hermann slipped on his heavy outer robe, already feeling stifled in it, then the crown. That was the toughest, trying to get the delicate veil to fall properly while hindered by the bulky sleeves of his robe.

Hands covered his. "Here, let me. It's so impractical, but…"

"Tradition," Hermann supplied, and held still as he felt the king arrange the veil around his shoulders and down his back.

"And they don't always make a lot of sense. There. You're looking properly royal now."

Even though Hermann had his back to the king, the sudden tension between them was unmistakable.

"Your father came to us," the king said. "This was his proposal. But I wanted you to know my uncles and I agreed to it knowing just what he would probably do. He's not as clever as he thinks."

That was something Hermann could have told them; the grip the man held on his power was so tight, it slipped from between his fingers, slowly but surely. Dieter would ascend to the throne sooner rather than later because of it. Perhaps then relations between the two kingdoms would improve then. "My brother-"

"It doesn't matter. That's politics, and I find it really boring. What I really wanted to say," the king continued, still at Hermann's back, "is please don't think you are a secondary prize. I mean, you're not a prize at all. You are you, and I'm not disappointed at all. Do you… know what I'm saying?"

Hermann closed his eyes. He was shaking. "I'm not sure."

A heavy sigh. "I won't hear from anyone that you don't belong here. You have a place here, next to me."

 

Hermann sleptwalk from breakfast to the library, unable to think of anything but what the king had said to him. Did he mean what it seemed he meant? Could there be something more than a strategic arrangement between their kingdoms for them?

Is that what Newt meant?

Eyes staring off into nothing, he collected the day's books from the librarian and retreated to the study room. The kids were already there, waiting quietly. "Good morning.  Are we ready?"

"Yes, sir!" Mako said promptly.

Chuck grunted, arms crossed and pouting.

They were deep into maths, working on advanced subjects that other children would never seen, when the door to the study room suddenly burst open.

"Hermann! Hey kids! I got-"

"Your majesty!" Hermann snapped, not truly thinking about who he was addressing. "We are in the middle of studies!"

Everyone outside of Hermann looked stunned.

"Sorry, sorry," Newt said, ducking his head in a stunted bow. "I'll wait until you're done." He slipped out and shut the door.

With a huff, Hermann looked over the book again to find where he'd left off.

"You spoke to the king very disrespectfully," Mako said quietly, staring at him with a wide, frightened gaze.

"Yes, well. You shouldn't speak to anyone that way. It was unforgivably rude of me."

"You're gonna be in trouble. You're gonna be put in jail!"

"You're being dramatic, Chuck. The king wouldn't do that; he's… kindly."

The narrowing of Chuck's eyes spelled trouble. "You like him."

Immediately Hermann blushed and started shuffling his things around in front of him. "Why wouldn't I? He's been very generous and treated me with respect."

"You _like_ like him."

"That-that isn't relevant to your studies. Concentrate." But now they were both watching him, and it seemed the rest of the day's lessons were probably lost. With a sigh, Hermann sat back, though he looked everywhere except at the children. "I'm not happy with you two. The king has asked me to continue tutoring you, but if you plan on turning every day into a battle of wills, I won't bother. I have better ways of spending my time."

It achieved exactly the opposite response: Mako leaned forward eagerly. "Like magic?"

That made Chuck perk up a little, doing his best to appear uninterested.

"Yes, like magic. A kind Master Choi is unfamiliar with, so if you'll gather your things, I can-"

" _Your_ magic?" Mako was undaunted and fearless.

Was that what caused her to be chosen as a rider? Or was there more to it? "Yes, my magic, and I would like-"

"Can we see it?"

"After the way you've both behaved? Hardly." With an annoyance he didn't have to fake, Hermann snapped shut the books, arranged them in a neat stack, and collected the ink pots. Once he had everything together, Hermann removed his spectacles (he knew they made him look soft). "Go on. Go do whatever it is you do when you're not busy wasting my time."

It was an odd reaction, not from Mako, who looked stricken, but from Chuck. The boy looked almost frightened. "Yes, your highness," he said quietly, and retreated from the study room.

Mako stood and bowed. "I'm sorry, your highness!" When she stood straight, there were tears in her eyes.

"Go on." Hermann refused to be swayed, no matter how sincere her apology was. "I will not indulge you in such speculation." She had only asked about his magic, but Chuck's accusation was still in the front of his mind. Was it so apparent to everyone else? Was he walking around, just letting everyone know he was the king's desperate little dog?

"Wow, what did you say to the kids? They both came out of here like they were going to their own execution."

Hermann was so twisted up in annoyance and worry and frustration, he couldn't even be surprised by Newt's sudden appearance. "They decided they preferred pointless speculation on things that had nothing to do with their studies, so I told them to go. I'm not sure there will be a tomorrow if this is what they've decided to spend this time on. All three of us have better things to do." With a stack of books and ink in his arms, he walked past Newt, shaking his head. "Waste of time."

After he'd dropped the books off at the desk, still seething (he'd progressed from annoyance to actual seething), he was going to his carrel where he'd just-

Newt grabbed his arm and spun him around. "And where are your priorities?"

"Excuse me?" However loud they were being, it didn't matter.

"This is a selfish thing now, just forget what you said you'd do? Fine." Rather than just releasing his hold, Newt almost flung Hermann's arm away. "That's just fine."

Clutching his journal to his chest like a shield, Hermann watched Newt walk away, too stunned to say or do anything. When he finally did move, it was to stumble to the nearest chair and sit. What had just happened?

***

Newt hadn't seen Hermann since before lunch. The only thing that kept him from truly worrying was that various guards had seen him and his escort around throughout the day. But there'd been no appearance from him at lunch or dinner, and here it was full dark out. Dinner was long done and the bedchamber was empty.

As the worry finally started to set in, no matter how much he reasoned there was nothing to worry about, there was soft knock on the door. On the other side was Hermann's guard. Before Newt could get too angry, the guard spoke.

"I've just brought him back, your majesty."

The details of the day didn't matter under the wave of relief that consumed Newt. "Thank you. Continue with your duty." Newt shut the door, deciding to let Hermann have his space for the moment.

Waiting, though, was not Newt's strong point. Shedding all the royal trappings, reducing himself to very "normal" clothing. If he walked out of the castle dressed like this, without the crown, he wondered if anyone would recognize him at all. He went from the bedchamber to the ante-chamber, which was silent, dark, and empty.

The bubbling tub was similarly empty, which surprised Newt. That was where he'd expected to find Hermann, would have bet on it. "Hermann?"

A pale shape moved in the corner. "Your majesty."

Back to this. "Come on, Hermann."

"Of course, your majesty." When he drew closer, into the small circle of light the low lamp was providing, Hermann revealed he was still completely dressed. "What do you require of me?"

"Were you just going to stay in here all night?"

Hermann shrugged, his face pale and drawn. "Am I not allowed to?"

"Sure, but where did you plan on sleeping? These floors aren't much for it."

Another shrug.

"Come here, Hermann. To me." And when the man was standing in front of him, the height difference seemed so vast. But Newt touched Hermann's cheek, inspecting his face. "Where have you been? You're pale."

"I was exploring the castle. Did I err?"

"Just stop it. Stop being your father's son for a minute. Be a human being and talk to me." Newt looked back for a moment, to the open archway. "Let's go, where we won't be overheard." While it wasn't necessary, he took hold of Hermann's elbow anyway to lead him along. "I don't get it, Hermann. I don't understand why it's so hard for you to fit in here. As far as I can tell, you should love it here. Yesterday it looked like you did." He shut the door behind Hermann when they entered the bedchambers. When he turned to engage in a conversation, Newt was a little surprised to see how Hermann's entire posture had changed.

Before, he'd been slumped over, hunched in on himself to appear small in the heavy robes. Now he was standing tall, his jaw clenched, a look Newt could only describe as _fierce_ in his eyes.

"Be a human being? You don't _understand_ why it's difficult for me to fit in?" Hermann's mouth worked, but no words came out. Suddenly he snorted, and yanked his elbow out of Newt's grip. "It must be wondrous to be king, to be able to revel in your power, unconcerned how it affects others. I watched my father and brothers do it, and now here I am again." He crossed his arms, leaning slightly to the left, carrying more of his weight on that side. "You don't want me to be a human being. What you said earlier makes that clear, and shall I even mention how you treat me? Ordering me around like a pet… Perhaps you should consider leashing me. I could love it here, but you are determined to make me miserable."

Newt frowned. "You're the one insisting on separating yourself and acting just like the kids you were supposed to be teaching. And then running off and hiding all day. You're right. You do need a leash." The instant the words were out, he knew it was a mistake because Hermann drew back like he'd been slapped.

"Forgive me, _your majesty_ , but you can take your crown and your dragons and your fake desires of friendship and drown in the Eastern Sea." Hermann stepped back and let his arms drop to his sides. "I'll sleep on the floor in front of the fire like a proper pet."

"No, Hermann," Newt said quietly, gently. "You're not sleeping on the floor. You're sleeping in the bed, next to me. You're not going to be on a leash ever. We're going to work this out." Slowly, for fear of Hermann lashing out at him, Newt reached up and removed the delicate crown. "And when I say 'next to me', I mean next to me, not on the other side of the bed."

The crown was returned to its place of honor, next to his own.

"And in the morning, we will go to breakfast together before you return to tutoring Chuck and Mako." And if Hermann was just going to stand there like a statue, then Newt was going to take control. Sure, he was familiar with all the clasps and hooks, but undoing them on someone else's clothing was a different skill. "You're not a prize. You're my husband." He brushed his fingers across Hermann's lips before leaning in.

"You will _not_!" Hermann said and jerked his head back.

"But I will. Undress yourself, or let me undress you. Your choice."

"This is preposterous! I will not assist you in your… your rape of me!"

"Fine." Newt began to undress Hermann the way he would undress himself. It was not a violent or rough act, there were no clothes torn. Layers were just peeled away quickly and efficiently, until Hermann was reduced to his barest cotton clothing. "A kiss is not rape. Sleeping is not rape. I haven't raped you, and I don't plan on it."

"You don't plan on it, but if it happens in the heat of the moment, then it's fine? Is that it, and I just should have known better?"

"Get in bed, Hermann." The man was determined to fight to the bitter end. No wonder he felt out of place in his father's kingdom. "Keep what you have on, and get into bed."

He did, looking equal parts angry and uncertain, and turned his back to Newt when he was situated under the blankets.

As much as Newt had something witty to say, Hermann would perceive it as taunting or a threat, so he kept his mouth shut as he stripped fully. This was _his_ bed. He didn't need to act like some blushing girl and keep his clothes on lest Hermann discover he was a man, and that his body functioned as one.

He slid over, molding his body to Hermann's, and put his hand on Hermann's hip. It was the damaged one, but Newt didn't do anything more than simply let it rest there. With this contact, it couldn't be more obvious that Hermann was shaking. "Don't be scared. Please don't be scared of me."

Parting the cotton halves, Newt tucked his hand inside the shirt, settling directly against warm flesh. He placed a series of small kisses to the back of Hermann's neck, smiling at the rush of gooseflesh they caused. "Good night, Hermann."

There was an almost silent reply: "Good night."


	8. Chapter 8

The morning was silent and uncomfortable, and there were still hurt feelings. Hermann kept his head down as he dressed, until he was finished, and then he just stood there like a puppet without its master. He hadn't even bothered with his spectacles.

Newt was tired, too tired to do more than go through the motions. He hadn't felt this way since his father had died, when he'd been so conflicted by overwhelming emotion and sense of duty, and nobody to help him along. Ultimately this all came down on him, good or bad. Success or failure. The buck stopped with him. "Come on."

Nobody, wisely, commented on either of their postures as they made their way down to breakfast. Newt's shoulders sagged, and his eyes were focused firmly on the floor. Hermann walked behind him, not beside him, looking ahead while not seeing anything; his lips were pinched in a thin, unhappy line.

When they were seated, food in front of them, it didn't go unnoticed that Newt started eating while Hermann didn't. "Eat, Hermann."

Only then did Hermann begin to eat, albeit slowly and with little enthusiasm.

Ilja snorted, watching the entire thing with interest. "I see the king has finally exercised his power to put his _konkubine_ in his place. I knew you had it in you!"

"Don't ever bring that up again, Uncle. It is not a topic for discussion," Newt said quietly. "In fact, I don't want to hear you speak of Hermann again. Is that clear?"

For a long moment Ilja remained silent, looking closely at his nephew. "What are you-"

"I said, is that clear?" Though Newt's hands had stilled, a skewer of meat in his right hand ready to eat, he did not look up. "Is it? Because you seem to think Hermann is the only one I'm king of in this castle, and I'm starting to find your constant unwillingness to do as I say bordering on treachery."

When Ilja replied, there was definite humility that had been lacking probably since Newt had received the crown. "Yes, your majesty. Forgive my rudeness. I overstepped my bounds."

"Thank you, Uncle." Newt resumed eating. His plate was mostly empty when he stood. "Let's go, Hermann."

Hermann's looked like he'd hardly touched it, but he stood without complaint and followed Newt.

"He really did it," Ilja whispered to his brother. "He finally broke that boy, finally took control of his power."

"I wouldn't recommend ever saying that where he might hear you," Gunter replied.

***

Both the children stood when Hermann entered. Mako was the first to bow, but Chuck quickly followed suit. "I apologize for our behavior, your royal highness!" Mako said, injecting such a seriousness that anyone other than Hermann at the moment would have laughed.

"I'm sorry," Chuck said; he wasn't frowning or scowling.

"Sit down."

The kids exchanged a glance, then sat down. The books were opened and slid over to them, but they watched Hermann instead of looking at them.

The whole lesson went like this, the kids distracted from actually learning by staring at Hermann, and Hermann just going on without concerning himself with their (lack of) responses.

***

"Quiet as mice, your majesty."

"Be truthful, Tendo."

"I am. Not a single peep once they shut the door. Nobody's gone in or come out."

Drumming his fingers on Tendo's desk, Newt chewed on his lip.

"Was there something I should have been watching for?"

"No, no. Just it seems no matter how hard I try to be friends with Hermann, he insists on forcing my hand and pulling out the whole 'I'm your king' card. You know how much I hate doing that."

"Did you ever think you need to stop trying and just let things run their course?"

Leaning in closer to keep his voice from echoing in the cavernous room, Newt said, "I don't want to wait for things to run their course. I totally just want to…" Newt cleared his throat. "I want very much to take him properly to bed, and there is no way I'm going to force him."

Tendo nodded. "I can understand why the slow play wouldn't be preferred then. But, honestly, I don't see you have much choice. He looks like he could be really stubborn, no matter how shy he acts."

"Oh yeah, stubborn is putting it nicely. But I sort of like it too. If I have to spend my entire life with him, I want a _person_ , you know? Not just some kind of subservient automaton." Newt sighed, and leaned on one elbow, propping his head in his hand as he stared at the door to the study room.

"Maybe wait the three months," Tendo suggested. "Once he can dress like something other than a show horse, he might feel more inclined to… cozy up?"

"Maybe."

The door opened and the kids emerged, none of their usual energy evident. They glanced at the desk, definitely seeing Newt there, but hurried out after averting their eyes.

It made sense, when Hermann finally came out, because he looked like he preferred to be in the ground rather than there. It wasn't until he'd left the books in a tidy stack on the desk that Hermann reacted to newt's presence. "Your majesty."

"Were the kids better behaved today?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"Hey! You don't have your journal!"

"No, your majesty. Dogs can't read or write."

Tendo whistled, pointedly not looking at the two of them as he sorted the books.

Three months of total hands-off. "Ah. Well, Master Choi, just came down to see how you were. I'll leave you to it." The wave Newt issued was overly casual, obviously fake, but his exit without speaking to Hermann was not.

 

Yes, Newt had felt a little maudlin at lunch, didn't have much of an appetite, but his mood improved when Hermann finally made his way in to eat. So as not to appear that he was ignoring the man, Newt nodded at him before finishing up. There was so much coming up, he didn't have time to play games or figure out what the rules even were. He would, though, have to make sure Hermann understood court rules; they were mostly for show, but it was an important show.

Of course, as a prince in his own kingdom, Hermann was most likely well-aware of the kinds of games that court life entailed, even though he'd been spared that here. Newt's uncles had handled that business for the ceremony. With the way things were, he could trust Gunter to help Hermann, but under no circumstances would he allow Ilja to be alone with Hermann.

While thinking, he traveled automatically down to the stables. The kids were just getting started, including a rare appearance by the nomad kid Raleigh Becket. For that Newt hung back; Raleigh was notoriously shy, and still kept himself mostly isolated after his brother's accident. But it was sweet to watch the large green and gold drake greet him.

That old man was picky and grumpy in the best of moods, so to see him warm up to the teenager was a welcome sight for both of their sakes. There was no telling how long Raleigh would stay this time; he was so young, but it had been almost a year since the last time he'd shown up. As much as he wanted to, there was no way to approach him; as king, it was almost impossible to get people to be honest with him, and he knew Raleigh thought he was being judged.

Newt wasn't sure how good he'd be as a mentor anyway. He'd never been good with other people for the most part, and becoming king hadn't helped that at all. No, it was better to leave the rider training to Master Hansen while maintaining appropriate distance. Sometimes Newt really wanted to just be average, or even go into the mountains and hide away with his mother. The dragons never lied, never spoke to save face, never gave conflicting signals, never pushed him to do things he didn't want to.

"You look upset."

Looking over at his uncle, Newt shrugged. "Been better." Then it hit him. "Did you leave Hermann alone with Uncle Ilja?"

"No fear, nephew. Ilja's gone to consult with Pentecost. Your boy's safe." He held his hands up immediately. "Sorry. But you got your point across; Ilja will behave himself."

"Oh. Well, that's good." It was, and it relieved some of the worry, but Newt was still lost a little in his head, trying to come up with a better way to work through all the hurdles ahead of him.

"Still looking upset. What's bothering you?"

"Tendo suggested I back off until the three months are up, because I said some things that were not very nice. And Hermann…" He actually managed a ghost of a smile, fond at its core. "He let me have it."

"A reasonable plan." Gunter laid his hand on Newt's shoulder and squeezed. "And I think the right one. I've never seen you take to someone this quickly before."

Of course. Newt leaned on his elbows on the top of the wall. "I was never in this position before. No one ever could get close before. And he's smart. You should see the ideas he had. If I can stop being an idiot, and maybe get him to like me a little bit, he'd be something special for us."

"For us?"

"I didn't deny that I liked him!"

Gunter chuckled and patted Newt on the back. "I'll look after him while you keep your distance."

"Thank you."

***

The next day, true to his word, Gunter made his way to the library to check on the prince consort. There'd been no further trouble, and he planned on keeping things similarly peaceful.

The library was silent, far more silent than a room of its size should have been. Master Choi had done a masterful job at dampening the sound so that it hardly carried. The man in question nodded in acknowledgment as Gunter entered, then went back to his books.

Nobody questioned just what Choi was doing with the books, or truly knew where his magical abilities lie. It was only that he seemed tied with the library in a way beyond any average person could ever be. He was one of Newt's only friends, and was an invaluable member of the royal staff.

"How has today been?" Gunter asked quietly.

"Smooth, sir. Certainly less tense than yesterday."

"Good. Anything you noticed about him?" There was no reason to be suspicious, but that strong core of magic in him left Gunter uneasy. There was never a moment, while Gunter was still drawing breath, that he wouldn't worry about Newt.

The door to the study opened, and out came Chuck, charging like a tiny bull. He waved briefly at the two of them before he zoomed out of the library.

"That's much more enthusiastic," Tendo commented, smirking.

Mako was next, bowing in the doorway before following Chuck's path out.

The moment Hermann stepped out and saw who was waiting for him, he froze.

"Well get over here so I don't have to shout, boy."

Holding the books in front of him, and in his case the might just work as protection, Gunter couldn't say, Hermann approached.

"How did it go with the kids?"

"Well, sir." Hermann looked everywhere except at Gunter.

"You feel up to continue on with it now?"

"I do, sir. I… apologize for yesterday. It was unacceptable for me to-"

"Nonsense," Gunter said, waving him off. "They're kids. They get under even the most patient man's skin sometimes. They looked pretty happy running out of here though, so keep up the good work. I do have some news for you: we will be having honored guests arriving in a week. You will need to ready yourself for sitting at court. Mentally, for the time being."

"I will, sir."

"When it's closer to the day, I'll instruct you on your part. Have a good day."

Now he had to decide whether or not to keep Newt informed on how things were going. It might be better not to, so he didn't get too hopeful or over enthusiastic. At the same time, he'd been very distressed by the way things had shifted that a little good news might be more helpful. He nodded at tendo then headed out.

Perhaps Newt would speak to the children and learn how much better things had gone. And maybe he'd leave it to chance. If Newt spoke to the children first, that was fine, but otherwise he'd let his nephew know. This relationship business was not something he was cut out for.

***

Hermann still didn't have his journal; he was still angry, even though it was fading rapidly after lessons with Chuck and Mako. Standing on the wall walk, in the shadow of the tower so he couldn't be easily seen, he was regretting not carrying it with him.

The kids were below, Chuck and Mako and several others, sitting on dragons. Master Hansen was walking back and forth, his words lost in the distance, but he was obviously critiquing each of them. That was not Hermann's true focus though.

Newt was down there, standing in the the open archway of the stables, watching. It looked like he was smiling. Whether that was reaching his eyes, Hermann couldn't say, but the smile was enough.

No, from now on Hermann would carry his journal. There was something about this, if it was him watching or the scene itself that was making his magic throb, like a heavy pulse. It was like that morning at breakfast, but stronger, more focused. He simply had to put this down as soon as possible. Sparing one last glance, feeling the heat in his cheeks as he swore Newt looked up at him, Hermann hurried out of the tower to get his journal.

 

The numbers covered page after page, top to bottom. Individually they meant very little, but when he followed them, like a path in a maze, they put together a series of grids and lines. This time there were far more expansive than the tiny little thing he drew at breakfast, to the point he was starting to think he would need a whole separate book for them.

Yet he still didn't understand what it meant. So when his inspiration faded, the magic once again sleeping within him, Hermann numbered and dated the pages before removing them from his journal and storing them in the desk. When he was more familiar with what was going on, he could revisit them and put the pieces to this puzzle together.

As he closed his journal, he saw the page he'd been collecting all his insights and observations of Newt and paused. For a long moment he paused, quill ready to scratch out every single word there, but in the end he just couldn't do it.

Newt was… complicated. He was the king! What could be simple about his life that he would owe Hermann every comfort he wished?

Newt was complicated, and Hermann liked to believe he was also complicated, or at least conflicted. It was hard to know if he were truly a complicated being or just confused when he'd never been pushed. Physically, yes, but even that was a simple thing. People believed that added some kind of layer to him: prince, dragon slayer, intellectual, cripple. He wasn't even crippled!

_"In the future, it will find its way into your bones. Maybe not tomorrow, or next month, or next year, but it will sap your strength. With luck, it won't outright kill you."_

Yet.

But nobody knew that except his family and the old hack that his father kept on as the royal physician.

Why? Hermann ran his fingers over the page. Simple, one way or another, why couldn't it have been simple? But he knew that too. Simple wouldn't be _enough_ , not for him. His quill wavered, and then scratched one word at the top, crammed above all the others.

Complicated.


	9. Chapter 9

The royal court was a room that could double as the outdoors with its enormity. Standing in the middle of it while it was silent and empty was a humbling experience. It looked very different without all the people that had been there for the ceremony, but Hermann had been so nervous he hadn't even properly looked. This was his first chance.

"You will enter through the main doors, under full guard, with the king," Gunter explained, his voice echoing impressively. "He will direct you to your seat, where you will stand until he sits."

Hermann nodded. This was all very standard, a process he'd seen plenty of times at home. The only real concern was to not freeze when he was presented.

"As long as you don't completely freeze up, you'll be fine."

Wonderful.

"Our visitors are long-time friends, so this will be a small reception. Formalities will be minimal."

Thankfully. Honestly, Hermann couldn't concentrate at all, he was so fascinated by the ostentatious decor around him. Banners, sewn he was sure with golden thread, fluttered lightly in the air coming in through the open archways high above. Stacks of treasure lined the hall, coins and bars, raw jewels, trinkets, anything a person could imagine (and some only a dragon could) was there, completely unguarded. That only held his attention until he saw the throne properly.

From a distance, it was hard to tell what was going on with it. It was impressive, but in a vague way, more for its size than anything. being able to see it up close… "Are those teeth?"

Gunter chuckled. "Indeed. Ever seen a dragon that big?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?"

That got a full laugh from the man. "Good point. We never take them, they're offered freely, sometimes from a living dragon, but most often from those that have died."

That was fine and all, but didn't explain at all how a dragon got large enough that it had teeth the size of a man. Or how long it had taken to gather the hundreds of teeth of all sizes that the throne was decorated with. "How do you sit and not get caught?"

"Practice. But don't fear, this is your spot." Gunter gestured to a place on a tier below the platform the throne was on, where, situated amongst (or on) more treasure was a pile of brightly colored pillows.

Hermann stared. "I don't get a chair?"

"Normally, no. It's not a seat of honor, you understand. It's for-"

"Display. I see." Even though his robes were tight around him, Hermann tugged them closer still. "I understand, but if I may ask for something with more support. For-for my leg." He'd never asked for any concessions regarding his injury considering how he'd obtained it, but that low to the ground with nothing firm to support him or that he could use to get him to his feet… He'd be laying in that mound of pillows until someone took pity on him and helped him up. "It doesn't need to be anything more than a stool. I simply don't know if I'll be able to-"

"I'll ask Newt about it. Ultimately it's his decision, how he wants his spouse to be… displayed."

"Of course."

"Ilja and I will be over here, within line of sight at all times. I don't say that as a threat, but as assurance. As you know how important appearances are, we will be a united four, no matter what tension there is between us."

"I understand perfectly. We were far from a united family."

"I very much got that impression. If you don't mind me asking, what impression do you get from us? Newt's father was a great king, but he was never interested in making any woman his queen except for Newt's mother." Gunter made an empty gesture with his hands, indicating the pillows. "She didn't accept. There's not been anyone in that spot since before he became king."

Hermann had, in fact, read the history of the kingdom, and knew the position of Dragon King was often a lonely one. "Nothing like this was a possibility before?"

"Unnecessary before. Diplomacy and reputation alone kept us safe and strong enough to have both strong allies and keep enemies well in check. No, this was something unique." Gunter stepped up to the throne and cleared stray coins from the front of it.

Even from distance, Hermann could see the face on them. He recognized it as coming from far in the west, across the ocean. He'd seen a few, kept as curiosities, when they'd received them from merchants, and been fascinated. Now, with them scattered all over, it didn't seem like much to be interested in.

"So, after the formal greetings, there will be a feast, of course. You'll be expected to stay for a reasonable amount of time, but then you're free to leave. Someone will be here to help you dress the morning of."

Hermann's lip curled. "I'm perfectly capable-"

"No. These," Gunter said as he gestured to Hermann's current attire, "are one thing. The court robes are something else completely. You'll eat breakfast, be dressed, and then head down. I know it seems intimidating, and I can't promise your comfort, but I do guarantee your safety."

Something about that statement made Hermann distinctly uncomfortable. At home, he'd never been worried for the safety of his family in the castle.

"I've heard the rumors, and I've heard the stories from other courts, other kingdoms. Though things between you and Newt are difficult, you _are_ the prince consort, and not to be given away as entertainment."

Hermann swallowed thickly, the unease now a firm churning in his gut. He'd heard those stories too, and had put the possibility out of mind until this very moment. Even though he was being assured such a thing would not happen, he couldn't help dwelling on it. They said this now, but what about later? What if things didn't get better between himself and Newt, and he had no better use here?

It was an unexpected thing when the man put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "He'd never do that," Gunter said. "I know I said some things at the beginning that sounded angry, but I was only being honest. If it's my place to say it, I have no reason to lie to you. And Ilja is more bark than bite. Stand strong. I get the impression your father wouldn't have sent you here if he didn't see something in you he was afraid of."

Afraid? That was ridiculous. Disappointment of course, a fact Hermann had known since-

"I see it. Newt sees it too, and we're not afraid." Gunter released Hermann suddenly, sending him staggering slightly. "Think you're ready for this?"

"Not in the least."

But Gunter just laughed. "You'll be fine."

 

Newt found him just before dinner in the library. "I have something," was all he said.

Hermann looked at him; they were both keeping their faces carefully blank. With a nod, Hermann began to put away his things. There'd been no new insights, just more meaningless numbers, but he could see how things were slowly coming together. Maybe there wouldn't be any sudden insight, just increased understanding the more he worked at it.

"Just a quick trip to the blacksmith. I'd let you go on your own, but he was kind of a dog's anus before, so I'll just make sure this goes smoothly."

"Thank you, your majesty." Looking at Newt from the corner of his eye, Hermann itched to write in his journal.

_Freckles_.

The walk was silent, and Hermann felt restless, unable to stop drumming his fingers on the cover of his journal. Part of it was being with Newt since after his own anger had cooled, his attraction had flared again. But the prospect of making an official court appearance was eating at him the moment he was out of the library. It was all so… infuriating.

So complicated.

The heat from the multiple forges was evident even down the corridor, making Hermann regret his overly heavy robes even more than usual.

"Yer majesty! Got it right here. A real beauty if I say so myself."

It was the same man, but there was no evidence of any kind of resentment toward either himself or Newt (considering how their last meeting went, Hermann had expected a glare at least).

"Oh! Let's see!" Newt quickly unwrapped the bundle of oiled leather he was handed and gasped. "Wow, this looks better than mine!"

"Figured you wanted something a little prettier."

There it was. The heat Hermann was feeling from being so close to the roaring fires disguised the blush in his cheeks.

"It's gorgeous. I love the sapphires." He turned and thrust it at Hermann. "Here! It hooks on those little loops in your sleeve if you like, or your robe, or on your belt. Maybe on your belt so you can show it off."

The leather sheath itself was dark brown, simple and utilitarian, but the handle that protruded was a work of art to Hermann's untrained eye. The heel was set with a trio of sapphires in a setting of some shiny silver metal, mounted in the steel of the tang. This was not decorative, just looking at the handle was enough to tell him that.

The whole thing with his hand made sense now, because when he took hold of the wrapped handle, it felt exactly as if it were made for him (because it had been, of course). The sapphires were the only nod to his position though. "I would have thought emeralds," Hermann said without thinking.

"Why?"

There was no way he was going to say because of Newt's eyes. And his eyes weren't emerald anyway. Maybe topaz would have been better. In the end, Hermann only shrugged.

"Sapphires are my favorite."

Oh.

Pulling the blade from the sheath, it was like the differences between their two worlds in one small piece of steel. There was a very firm picture in Hermann's mind about what a weapon looked like, how a piece of metal formed into a blade appeared. It would always be the long, pointed tip of the spear he had used, shining dully and singing with magic. It had been a beautiful and terrible thing, crafted for just one purpose. The simplicity of a soldier.

This knife, withe the blade revealed and lit by the fires of the forge, it was like magic all by itself. There was a profoundly detailed dragon etched into the metal, all so highly polished it was brighter than most mirrors. The edge was sharp enough that the slightest pressure of his thumb drew beads of blood. There was no magic in this, only the skill of a master craftsman. To use this simply to kill would be an insult. It was worthy of something more.

"It's beautiful." Hermann looked up to find the blacksmith giving him a well-masked look of approval. Apparently that was water under the bridge, and things were fine now. "Thank you. I'll carry it with me with honor." After slipping the blade back into the sheath, Hermann fumbled until he fixed it to his belt. He didn't even notice its weight on top of the heavy robes, but when he reached his hand down, he found it instantly.

The handle was the perfect size for his fingers to wrap around, to find a comfortable grip, and the blade pulled free easily with a bare whisper. Hermann put the blade away and looked up, smiling.

"Great. Hermann, my uncle filled you in on things, right?"

"He did, your majesty." Newt could be as casual as he liked, but here was not the place for Hermann to be, especially because he didn't really _feel_ it.

"Excellent. So… uh, have a nice evening." Newt paused, turned awkwardly, looking unsure of what to do, then walked out.

Hermann watched him go, then addressed the smith. "Truly magnificent work, sir. Thank you."

In an unexpected gesture, the smith ducked his head. "Your royal highness."

***

Hermann was in the bath.

Ever since he was old enough to get around a room on his own (scooting, crawling, walking), Newt had been insatiably curious. It hadn't gotten better with age, though his curiosity had shifted from _life_ to usually things that were more… shiny. He was perfectly aware of what this looked like to others, the few that had seen him suddenly be so captivated by an object he became dismissive of the world around him, but he'd never been able to shake the compulsion.

It was like that now, but the object of his fascination was Hermann's journal. Why the curiosity was on him now and not before, Newt didn't know. But he couldn't take his eyes off the book, sitting there innocently on the desk. It had been used, but lovingly; Hermann was careful with books, all books. What Hermann had filled it with…

Newt ran his fingers across it, idly toying with the buckle, loosening it fractionally. But with a huff, he tightened it and walked to the other side of the room. Pacing briefly, eyes drawn back to the journal the moment he took them off it, he shook his head. He hurried out, walking quickly down the corridor without his crown.

The castle wasn't a maze, though for those that hadn't had free reign of it for over twenty years it could sometimes seem like it. Newt knew every hall, every room, every _brick_ of the place, probably better than anyone else. Even his uncles. There might have been a mouse, or maybe even a cat, that had been in all the hidden nooks he had, but they weren't telling.

The spot he'd found, _his_ spot, it must have been made whenever the tower was, because it was perfectly sealed and even had a window (he'd replaced the rotted wooden shutter ages ago). The small archway that opened into the stairwell, in the shadow of the wooden landing above, was reinforced, like a proper doorway. There'd even been a few slats of wood painted gray across it. This had been put here deliberately, but for what purpose Newt didn't know.

When he'd found it, there'd been only empty, rotting crates. Maybe it had been a hidden defensive position in case the castle was infiltrated? It didn't matter; it was obvious to see it had been abandoned for a long time. He'd fashioned, in secret of course, a new door, better, and when fitted into place, looked like a part of the wall. He'd also used just a little magic that would tell him if it were ever being opened. It was the only thing he trusted; something stronger could be detected, and then what was the purpose?

The tower was quiet, with only the faintest of echoes giving himself away. Stopping in front of his secret door, Newt listened and waited until he was sure there was nobody near, then pushed the door and ducked inside. Calling it ducking was generous; he was almost crawling through. How men in armor and with weapons were expected to get through there was a mystery.

Though his little room was dark, Newt reached up as he stood to his full height, and easily found the shutter to pull it open. Pale light streamed through the window. It was only enough to cast shadows, but more than enough for him at the moment. It was only a distraction, something to get his mind away from whatever secrets Hermann was putting in his journal..

They weren't secrets. That didn't make it any less maddening to Newt, but they weren't secrets. And even if they were, Hermann was entitled to them. If Newt could have this whole room, then Hermann could have his journal.

But he wanted to know what was in it _so bad_.

With a growl, his lip curled contemptuously, Newt knocked over a small box, and immediately regretted the noise it made. The top flipped open and spilled its contents all across the floor with an ear-threshing clatter.

The clean-up, the touching of his possessions helped though, as he became more interested in the feel of the things in his hands than the possibility of the journal. A tarnished bronze cup he remembered his father drinking out of when he was still small. An iron token from a fair he'd attended on a trip with his father. The tiny bronze clasp shaped like a dragon that had been part of his old formal robes, sized for a child's fingers. A rock he'd found in the river, smooth and blacker than night.

Every object held a meaning, a memory. Sometimes it was simply the shine of a gem in the sunlight, but he'd kept all these things for specific reasons, and nobody knew anything about them. His mother knew he had a place where he kept these kinds of things, but even she didn't know where it was or what was in it.

The rock helped the most at the moment, as Newt turned it over in his hand and ran his thumb across the smooth surface. He stayed there, looking out the window, turning the rock over and over, until the moon was well above the trees. Feeling calmer, Newt put the rock back in the box, and left the comfort of his hidden hoard.

***

Time passed quickly, but uneventfully, for Hermann. While he was a little lonely, it was probably no more than he'd been at home, and here he at least had magic that he could freely occupy his time with.

That only worked until the night before the royal reception, when he had butterflies in his stomach that would not be calmed, no matter how much of the sweet and bubbly draught from the physician he drank.

Sleep was impossible, and he tossed and turned until he was sure Newt would summarily kick him out of the bed. But somehow, Newt slept like the dead (because he was used to these things, of course), and eventually sheer exhaustion got the better of Hermann.

 

The subtle noise of rattling dishes was enough to wake him in what he assumed was the morning. He sat up to see Newt and a servant, and a serving platter of food too big to fit on the desk. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, Newt dismissed the servant.

When he looked up to see Hermann watching him, Newt said, "You should eat something. I had them bring up mostly light food. I know how it feels to sit there for hours with a lead ball in your gut. Even got a little honey." As if to demonstrate, he picked up a chunk of dripping comb and popped it in his mouth.

And that was it. Newt went about fixing himself food from the offerings, a bowl of porridge that he drizzled with more honey, some bread, a cup of water, some fruit, a generous slice of pork belly…

"How do you eat all that?"

Newt looked up, still chewing on honeycomb and licking his fingers. "Eat what?"

"All that food. It's a disgusting amount."

"Probably won't get a chance to eat again until dinner. Don't want to get hungry and grouchy in front of everyone."

"I suppose not." Hermann slipped out of bed and immediately put his dressing robe on. As warm as the room was, it was nothing compared to being tucked under those warm layer of blankets. His shyness had been worn down, especially as he'd been left to his own devices; it was more like home with his brothers than… something else.

While his stomach was still churning, it also growled at the sight of the food. And if it was true that there might not be time for lunch, skipping breakfast wasn't an option. Unlike Newt, once he had gathered his food, Hermann ate slowly. There was no real hurry; he had nothing specific to get to until he was needed, so he ate slowly, savoring the unusual selection of food.

"I'm going to get cleaned up, get a shave. Do you want me to have Lane wait for you?" Newt started chewing on another piece of honeycomb.

Hermann touched his hair hesitantly. "I suppose." Even if he didn't feel comfortable changing it completely, he could at least get it cleaned up from the shaggy mess it was becoming.

"Will do." Newt walked out, though he lingered in the doorway for a moment, looking like he was going to say something before leaving Hermann alone.

Better that he didn't anyway. Hermann was nervous enough that he didn't need any further stress. So he continued to eat slowly, more of the fruit than anything else, and copious amounts of water. The water was a risk, but he was confident he'd get most of it out before whatever marathon sitting session he'd end up in.

He was picking at the last of the grapes when Newt returned, shrouded in a cloud of something fragrant. Hermann glanced long enough to see he was actually clean-shaven, making him look _much_ younger even than he already did, then just let his nose work. It was something strong and masculine, spicy and exotic.

Suddenly flustered (and annoyed that it was Newt doing it to him), Hermann stood and practically fled from the room, unconcerned what it looked like. It didn't help as that scent was still hanging in the warm air of the bath, in the water, but at least, if he smelled like that himself it wouldn't be so entrenched in his mind as _Newt_.

The old man waiting there clucked his tongue. "Oh yes," he said, and shook his head. "I see."

It was just going to be like this all day, Hermann could tell. Sighing in resignation, he sat on the stool next to the man and his little tray of tools. "Could you just… make it look neat?"

Looking him over, inspecting his head, Lane nodded. "I could do that. You're sure you don't want-"

"No, no. Not yet. Perhaps some point in the future. But today, just-"

"Neat." The man's weathered hands were suddenly running across Hermann's cheeks, and he chuckled. "Is that something from the south?"

Of course nobody commented on it until now, though there was an odd kind of freedom in the fact that people spoke to Hermann so bluntly, with a casualness and honesty that he wasn't used to hearing. Instead of jerking his head away as was his first instinct, Hermann shrugged. "My father is the same way. My brothers are slightly more fortunate."

"More fortunate? I've heard many men moan about how they wished they would never need to feel a blade against their face again."

"Most seem so proud of their mustaches and beards." Certainly Bastien was, even when they were hardly visible patches on his upper lip and chin.

"Laziness. Now, hold still."

Hermann saw the clippers out of the corner of his eye coming toward his ear, and froze. It was a quick process, the little snip noises coming rapidly from all around his head. And then the razor, and somehow Hermann became even more still. The cold metal touched the back of his neck, caressed it lightly, then moved to the right. Behind his ear, above it, just in front of it, his peripheral vision filled with the man's steady hand. Then the other side the same way, and before Hermann could breathe a sigh of relief that no blood had been drawn, it was done.

Then a woman walked in, and didn't wait a moment beyond the blade being a safe distance from his flesh to grab Hermann by the elbow. "In the water with ya. I usually do this with the noble ladies, but the duke asked me here."

If it hadn't felt so impersonal, like Hermann was a dirty bit of clothing, he probably would have been horrified. But the woman worked so quickly, peeling off his clothing and nearly shoving him the water that he barely had time to understand what she was talking about. "This isn't-"

And she doused him with water.

As he spluttered his protest, she started scrubbing at his skin, practically removing it with that harsh soap.

Wincing, trying to pull away from her, Hermann said, "Do you treat all the noble ladies like this? It's a wonder any of them bathe at all!"

"Nah. They don't complain as much."

He grabbed her hand when it was within easy reach. "I assure you, madam, I am capable of washing all areas of myself that are within my reach. If this is what was requested of you, then my back is an area of concern."

The voice was too low, but there was something said about princesses in the woman's grumble as she confined her scrubbing to his back.

It wasn't pleasant since she scrubbed him near raw, but she had a soft cotton robe for him to wear once he was out of the water.

"Will you let me-"

"No. Sit down."

The whole process was a little humiliating, if only because she treated him like he was five years old, but when she applied to scented oil to his sore back, the scent and slick relief calmed him immediately. This was what Newt had smelled like.

Surprisingly, her hands were strong enough to work out the building tension in Hermann's shoulders, and he was definitely getting relaxed. Maybe this was why Newt seemed so unconcerned (though he never truly seemed concerned about much of anything). And then she slapped him on the shoulder, and it all vanished in an instant.

Leveling him with a skeptical glare, she asked, "Can you dress yourself, or do you need help for that too?"

"I am not helpless! I never requested your presence, so if you'd please…" But when Hermann turned, she was walking away. Well. With Lane already having packed his tools up and gone, Hermann was alone to dress himself, but other than the dressing robe he'd worn in and the cotton robe he'd dried off in, he had no clothes except for his basic two piece. "Of all the…" With a huff, because he was certainly not walking out naked, he put those on, but he refused to be embarrassed further. So what if his shadow saw him a little underdressed? What could be said of Hermann that probably hadn't already been?

"I thought you fell asleep in there."

Gods above, she was waiting for him. "What torture do you have for me now?"

A nasty grin. "Getting you dressed."

 

Layer after layer until Hermann felt more like a mound of laundry than a person, and that was topped with jewelry that would make most kings blush at their value. Standing was an actual effort under the weight of it all; if he had to do much walking, his leg would surely give out, causing an embarrassing scene. The weight of the ornate buckle alone, expertly crafted in gold and dragon glass, was almost a stone, and was bigger than his hand. There were several necklaces decorated with jewels of different types and sizes that couldn't even be seen under the voluminous outer robe that were like a yoke on his shoulders.

"Hermann?" Newt looked in on him and smiled. "Ready?"

"The best I can do," the woman (who was nameless other than a string of curses that never passed Hermann's lips) said. "He complained the entire time!"

"I certainly did not! And even if I did, you nearly flayed me alive with your brutish scrubbing!"

"Hey, hey, we'll work something out for next time. We need to get moving."

There was no denying how amazing the robe looked, cream colored with intricate stylized emblems of dragon heads in red covering it. The fur that trimmed it was thick, dense, making Hermann overly warm just standing in place. The only parts of his body not encased in something designed to cook him were his hands and head; this was going to be bad. "Forgive me, your majesty. This is much more than I'm used to."

One unsteady step after another until he had crossed the room and was standing in the doorway, where he leaned heavily against the wall. "Is it supposed to be so warm?" And apparently not, because Newt was looking at him with obvious concern.

Stepping closer than he had for over a week, Newt pulled open the outer robe. "No one will even see these," he commented, and lifted the necklaces from around Hermann's neck. "Uff, come on. I'll need to have a word with my uncle. This is so unnecessary." Newt swore quietly as he left the jewelry with the woman. "But there's no time to change any of this. I'm sorry, Hermann."

It was still as hot as a furnace, but removing the extra weight helped quite a bit. "It's enough. Thank you." It was amazing how a single day of sitting to the side could be more stressful than the whole blasted ceremony.

 

Breathe. Just breathe and keep the legs moving. That's what Hermann was telling himself. Keep the eyes straight ahead, don't look at the other people there that are all looking at him. And breathe. And keep the legs moving.

Somehow he managed to do all these things at once successfully. If he had not been able to keep pace and position half a step behind Newt's right shoulder, it was almost sure he would have been wobbling all over the place.

And the pillow situation… He let out a nearly audible sigh of relief when he saw a chair had been placed among the pillows and draped with red cloth and a white spotted pelt. The low, wide steps weren't even a challenge as he took his place, still not looking at any of the people in the hall. A brief glance at the many faces all turned toward him was quite enough as he was sure they were all judging him, probably cursing him.

Newt stood in front of his massive throne for only a moment before he sat, and Hermann was finally able to get off his feet, nearly forgetting himself before settling with an awkward grace into the low seat. Now, as he'd been informed, he just had to sit and look… present, because he surely couldn't look _pretty_.

Maintaining his concentration on nothing at all without looking vacant actually took a lot of work, especially with the sun coming in, falling across him and reflecting off all the gold in the room. The heat combined with his restless sleep was making him very tired, and the silence other than quiet murmuring was becoming oppressive. It was a battle to stifle his yawns, until movement from his left caught his eye.  Hermann started to turn his head, then stopped himself.

The movement came from the shadows, just far enough away that without turning to look, Hermann couldn't make out any details. What he could see was a large, lean shape, ducking behind a wall of gold bricks before peeking out the other side. It was likely a safe wager that he had a dragon over there to his side, maybe it was watching him. Maybe it was waiting for him.

It was an odd feeling that, the presence of the dragon itself wasn't as disturbing as the fact that Hermann had no idea what it looked like. He'd faced down a fearsome beast, almost died, but it was a creature he could easily describe. Not all dragons were like this though, as he'd been taught. Some were more like nightmares wrapped in scales, long and sinuous, like monstrous snakes, or snouts as long as his entire body filled with teeth that locked like a trap.

The very thought made his skin crawl, and he shuddered with the pictures his imagination was conjuring. There was a pile of coins right next to him that it could slither under and emerge without warning to take hold of his arm and-

A horn sounded, interrupting his thoughts. Everyone turned and looked at the great doors, and Hermann took the opportunity to make sure he was presentable. At least he wouldn't have his father hissing at him later for not being dignified enough (no matter how neat and presentable he'd been).

The doors opened, and against Hermann's expectations, just two people walked through. Though walked was not the quite proper way to put it. The two marched, like untouchable royalty (and in a way they were), and Hermann was impossibly impressed without knowing a single thing about them. The room was in complete silence outside the echo of their twin bootsteps as they approached the throne.

For a brief moment, when they stopped at the foot of the steps, the woman's eyes looked over Hermann, meeting his eyes, then looking back at Newt. It wasn't quite enough to reduce him to blushing, but he definitely felt like he'd just been judged.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, your majesty," the man said (though he appeared to be more bear than human to Hermann's eyes).

"As it always is, your nobleness."

The woman laughed. "Such a clumsy title, and too formal for you, your majesty. Please, you must call me Captain Kaidanovski." She broke into a huge, dazzling smile, and once again she looked to him for an instant.

Herman tilted his head slightly, his brows drawing together as briefly as the attention she spared him. Truly, she was a mystery, but the relationship between these two and Newt was in the open: they were friends, even with their differences in nobility.

"I do insist that your majesty come out to see the beauteous _sneg drakon_ that came to me last year," she said, tossing her long blond braid over her shoulder.

Newt leaned forward, his face alight with enthusiasm. "Really? Oh yes, please!"

"We forget our manners," the man said, his solemnity cutting through the heightened mood for a moment.

The huge man reached to his side for something on his belt, and Hermann tensed though nobody else seemed concerned. His own hand reached to his belt, stupidly realizing too late he'd never had a chance to get his own knife.

And even though he held out only a small pouch, Hermann's heart refused to slow. As if he could do anything in the case of an actual attack against Newt. As if the little knife would mean anything with both of Newt's uncles standing there, and all the guards in the room and their full-sized swords and spears. Hermann wasn't even sure he could stand quickly enough to make a difference. The brief moment of worry also had the added benefit of turning the sweat building under his heavy clothing cold, soaking through his cotton garments.

"We saw a star fall, and when we investigated, we found these in the crater. They look like _almaz_ , but they are not. They truly came from the sky."

Hermann couldn't see his face clearly, but he could see the woman's, and she was unabashedly proud of whatever it was they'd brought. He didn't speak their language, had never heard it or even their accents before, so didn't know what _almaz_ was for comparison. Whatever it was, Newt was overjoyed when he looked in the pouch.

"That's amazing! Cool!" Still staring into the pouch, Newt stood, bringing everyone to attention. "Let's go." He looked up at the gathered people. "Go on, you're all excused. You all look great. Get out. Go go go."

People started to file out, some looking disappointed, but it wasn't until most of them were gone that Newt stepped down from the throne.

Hermann struggled to his feet so he could follow, now unsure exactly what was expected of him. "Your majesty."

With barely a glance, Newt said, "Yeah, Hermann, you can go do whatever until our grand feast tonight. Oh, yeah. Uncle?"

Gunter stepped up. "Something wrong?"

"Yeah, can we tone down Hermann's robes a little. It's really not necessary for all that, is it?"

"Whatever you think best, Newt."

"I think Hermann looks like he's about to pass out. I had to take half the treasury off of him this morning just so he could walk across the room."

"We'll find something a little more comfortable." Gunter looked to Hermann. "Before dinner then?"

"Of course." And then, like he would evaporate and not be part of their further concern, they all just left him. Newt and the visitors walked, talking and laughing together; Newt's uncles talked quietly to one another in their wake. Hermann was alone with his single guard the grand echoing chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sneg drakon - snow dragon  
> almaz = diamond


	10. Chapter 10

"How rude," Hermann said quietly, but he couldn't bring himself to mind overly much. He certainly wasn't at his best, didn't feel physically good. It would be better to meet these people properly under the better circumstances of the meal this evening.

At any rate, he had no desire to look at whatever monstrous companions the visitors had in tow, and he had a desperate need to get out of all these layers. Once he was more comfortable, he could easily relax in the library until dinner, get a snack if he were feeling hungry… It had him wondering suddenly if all of Newt's official gatherings were so brief, or if it was strictly because of the familiarity. A certain level of required respect shown, just enough, and then abandoned for friendship. A sight Hermann had never seen.

He sighed, and couldn't deny the jealousy he felt. He'd had no friends when he was younger, and certainly had no friends now. The only people he had any connection with were Mako and Chuck, and as much as he liked the children, they were just children.

Suddenly the solitude of the library didn't sound quite as inviting. A glance, reassuring himself that he was alone, Hermann undid the closures on the top two layers of clothing. There were still two more beneath, but just that little bit helped enough that he could look over the treasure around him more closely. The sheer amount was a spectacle on its own, and on top of that was the different kinds of valuables.

Every kingdom had a treasury that held gold and jewels, that was just fact even if Hermann hadn't seen them. But he didn't think most kingdoms had the amount of artifacts he saw scattered about. One caught his eye in particular, and he reached for it. To say he pulled it out was not quite correct, because the thing weighed probably half as much as he did. Hermann dragged it from under the treasure it had been buried beneath, unable to even lift it completely from the floor.

This was quite possibly the least practical thing he'd ever seen. A sword made of gold, as long as his arm, and the blade set with jewels. It was amazing to look at, but it was a kind of false beauty too. His brothers would have been surprised to find the simplicity of a weapon and the care put into crafting it was something he appreciated.

This gaudy thing? With a snort, Hermann let it fall back into the pile, sending a cascade of coins sliding to all sides. It made the outrageous buckle he was wearing feel subdued, and though the jewelry had been removed from him, it wouldn't have been out of place.

Hermann looked up, seeing a selection of artifacts and weapons displayed on the wall. These must be the truly special items of the treasury. He squinted. Was that…? With inexplicable urgency, he clambered over the unstable mound, and slid down the other side so he could see more closely. There was his dagger, cleaned up and polished, hanging there. For no reason he could identify, seeing it there roused anger in him he'd never quite felt before. Not just anger, but a kind of disgusted disbelief, and betrayal of all things.

Like they'd done something to earn this prize, when he'd willingly given it up. Hermann had given up a gift from his sister, and here it was. It felt like they were mocking him.

_Look what the little dragon slayer had with him. What a fool._

He'd come willingly, with only three personal belongings beside his clothing, and this was how little they thought of his trust.

This was what they thought of him.

And now he could feel tears in his eyes. He hadn't wanted it before, but now he did just to keep it from being used as a symbol of his weakness and failure.

It was mounted out of reach, hung on two pegs, easily enough removed if he could just get it. His guard was watching him, but making no move to stop him at all. Turning, he looked for something that would give him that little extra reach, something he could actually lift. He grabbed the first thing he saw that looked like it would do, pleased to discover it was apparently only gold plated based on its weight.

On brief inspection, it seemed an inadequate gift. It was something a rich merchant would have for show; probably an overweight one, proud of his own meager wealth, using the cane for a bad hip and uneven gait. Hermann had suspicions this was something of a "tax" rather than a gift. Either way… He turned back to get the dagger down, and almost fell backwards.

Standing right there, almost at Hermann's feet, was a dragon. The thing was small as far as dragons went, but large enough and with enough teeth showing in it's beak-like snout for Hermann to know it could hurt him if it wanted. He could feel the terror making his muscles freeze, but also his magic start to burn. If only he had something useful for the situation, he might get more than just severe cramps.

The dragon nosed at the bottom of Hermann's robes, smelling the fur trim, then looked back up. It was actually making eye contact with him, with its huge golden eyes that very definitely reflected intelligence. Talons clicked on stone as it got closer still, it's large feathery body curling in on itself as it lifted its head high.

Feathers. It had feathers. Most were a deep blue, or jewel green, but there were some on the tail and in an impressive ruff around the back of the head that were blue with vibrant red tips. Yes, he'd seen those feathers before. "Shoo," he whispered.

It made a noise, a sound that reminded me distinctly of a small animal. It did not make a noise like a dragon. It bobbed its head before bringing it closer to Hermann's face.

At this distance, Hermann could see the discoloration on the exposed teeth, watch the nostrils flare just before he was hit in the face with a hot gust of breath. "Rude. Go on now."

Instead of doing that, it stretched up, its front feet leaving the floor to look more like one of the large river weasels he'd seen back home. The plume of feathers brushed Hermann's cheek as the dragon leaned into him to investigate his crown. Just his luck, it would think he'd stolen those teeth and get aggressive.

"You get your manners from your king. "Go away." Hermann braved actually touching the beast, marvelling at the texture of the feathers for a brief moment before he gave it a soft shove. "Go."

The shove did nothing, but the dragon lowered itself back to the floor before turning around, where it flicked Hermann in the chest with its tail, and scampered off. The sound of nails on stone then coins faded, and finally Hermann felt like he could move.

***

Yes, they got snow, but it was seasonal so they didn't get any of the very finicky snow dragons. This was the first one he'd actually been closer than just watching. From a distance, they were amazing. Up close, Newt could hardly control his glee. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "It's big."

The dragon regarded him evenly with pale blue eyes as Newt ran his fingers through the heavily furred ruff around the neck, then turned its head to reveal the pale, almost pink, scales under its throat.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" Newt cooed, and rubbed the exposed area.

With a groan from deep in its chest, the dragon lowered its entire body to the ground and stretched out.

"Aww, he's just a big old baby, isn't he?" With a grin, he looked up at the pair of riders. "He's got the pair of you figured out, doesn't he?" In fact, in Newt's estimation, they were very much alike. Intimidating, fierce when necessary, but ultimately more feared for reputation than actual deeds.

Of course Newt had seen dragons in all shapes and sizes, but there were only a few exceptions to the standard features they all shared. The fur of the snow dragon was one of them. In addition to the ruff on the neck (to regulate the temperature of the back of the skull, of course!), the spinal ridge also was covered in a trail of it to the very tip of the tail. Newt wanted to laugh. It was a poof at the end, frizzy in the mild temperatures and dry conditions; he wanted to rub his face on it. The feet and toes were narrow, but the heavy webbing between them was so thick he could see it folded up, and both tops and bottoms had more fur.

No wonder they had none of these locally; they were very firmly built to live in the coldest environments. It didn't stop Newt from being jealous as all get out though.

Crouching down at the side of the dragon's head, Newt spoke quietly to him. It was as rooted in magic as regular learning; he could try to teach the language of dragons to anyone, but without dragon magic, they'd never reach the point of understanding. When his mother had taught him, it had come without effort, and using it now was hardly even a conscious effort. Sometimes he wasn't aware of what he was even saying, only that the dragons responded to him. That was what was happening here.

The details didn't matter, just the low, pleasant tones they exchanged. He'd been asked, more than once, what he said to the dragons and with more interest what the dragons said back, but it wasn't that simple. It wasn't like words he said that other people could understand, and without experiencing it, it was impossible to explain. Luckily the Kaidanovskis had seen him do this enough that they watched silently, and if he had something to say, he would say it.

"I'm definitely jealous," Newt said eventually. "He's a charmer."

"As is my wife, so it's a fitting match."

"Charming, beautiful, and deadly."

Newt grinned. "And not lacking in confidence." One last scratch to the dragon's chin and then Newt was standing. "So was this a social visit, or do we need to discuss things?" Social visits were great, but rare, and he never presumed those that came to his court were there only for the pleasure of his company.

The looks on the faces of Kaidanovskis told him all he needed to know. "All right. Business."

***

After changing into something more casual and infinitely more comfortable (and he never thought he'd consider these robes casual or comfortable), Hermann headed to the library. Most of the breakfast dishes had been removed, but the bread they hadn't finished was still there with a dish of soft butter, and he couldn't resist eating it before heading down.

"Master Choi."

The man looked up, along with the pair of people on the far side of the space. "Your royal highness. What can I do for you?"

"Before, you said you would look for books. And I became… distracted. But I have several hours to fill before the feast."

"I held them for you. I knew you'd be back." He pulled several books from under his desk and slid them over.

"Ah, thank you." There were three slender books, not entirely encouraging to the prospect of understanding his own magic, but it couldn't hurt. Hermann returned to his carrel, and opened the first book, with his journal and quill at the ready.

It turned up very little, actually. It droned on about someone's fascination with the higher functions of maths, which Hermann was already familiar with. Not that Hermann didn't appreciate it, but it wasn't what he was looking for.

The next book was a little more in line, dealing with a man's encounter with magic that only existed in the ink the user put to page. It wasn't anything specific, like an extension of will, but only when expressed in this way. Hermann felt that whatever was happening with his magic, he didn't need to write anything down for it to work. That made it easier to put together while he still didn't understand it, but it was there whether he just pondered on it before he fell asleep or drew intricate grids and filled pages with numbers.

Interesting, but not quite it either.

The third book was hardly more than someone's journal, like his own, with entries about magic someone (he assumed a woman because of the precise handwriting, and there was no name found within) actually performed with numbers. It was, again, something different, but it did get Hermann thinking, more seriously considering the idea that there was power in the numbers themselves.

An idea he would be considering for a long time, whether he unlocked the meaning of his own magic or not.

_I don't even know what I am. Nobody ever talks about multiple kinds of magic. Maybe that truly is why Father sent me here._

Hermann looked curiously at the words he'd just written in his journal. Thoughts so deeply hidden (or denied) he wrote them without thinking? It hadn't been a secret that he was a disappointment, but with two brothers eager to find their places in line for the throne, Hermann had hardly mattered.

_He wanted the dragon to kill me. I could die for my king that way. Sad, but it would do the family proud._

The words were so tangled, the feelings so wrapped up together he couldn't actually describe any single one. Except maybe one, and that he'd thought had been solely related to dragons and this exile: terror. Why else did he try to hide his magic, even though he knew it was impossible to keep it a secret?

_When the dragon didn't kill me, how long did he look for someone to take me? This must have seemed perfect. How disappointed he would be to learn I'm not dead. Or something worse. Would he truly wish that upon me?_

Though his back was to the rest of the library, Hermann rubbed his eyes quickly. He didn't want to believe it; it just couldn't be true. Yes, he had his faults. He could live with being a disappointment even if he hadn't chosen to be any of the things that his father disliked about him.

_I never asked for magic, or to be smarter than my brothers, or to want men._

On the page, in ink, it couldn't be revoked. The feelings he'd accepted as just things that happened; Hermann had just sort of accepted being alone because he simply couldn't manage any interest in "acceptable partners". That had been the most humiliating conversation of his life, the look of distaste on his father's face, the way his mother stared down at her hands. And then the sickly smile Karla had given him before he'd run off to hide amidst their jumble of books.

_I've never asked for anything. Why am I the one always punished?_

"Your royal highness?"

Hermann jerked his head up to stare guiltily at the librarian. He slammed the journal shut without even thinking.

When the librarian spoke again, it was at a whisper, even though they were alone in the library. "You look like you're in a bad state, brother."

"What?"

Without saying more, a handkerchief was passed over.

For a moment Hermann stared, then realized his cheeks were damp. "Oh. I'm sorry if I was being loud." He took the offering and wiped his face and eyes. "I just…"

"Not necessary. Any of the books help?"

Thankful for the change of subject, Hermann shuffled the books just to make his hands busy. "Interesting, but not quite what I was looking for. Though I did find something to consider, so thank you."

"That's what I'm here for. If you need anything, I'm at your service." He bowed.

"Oh no, please, I don't… That's not necessary, really. I'm not comfortable with that kind of formality. I know I'm not a popular figure here, and I saw what…" Hermann shook his head. "No, that's not your concern. I'm sorry."

"You're a person who knows their way around books. That's all I need to know. Information is power. So yeah, there are going to be some people who say the words and think the opposite, but give it time." With a smile, an unusual look for the man, the librarian nodded. "I've got a good read on you. Get it? 'A good read'."

Hermann managed a wan smile. It was one of the most genuine and friendly gestures he'd received so far, but he couldn't quite manage to return it. "Thank you, Master Choi. I appreciate it. I really do."

"Please, I'm not so hung up on formality for someone I respect. It's Tendo. Been holding down the fort here in the library since Newt's father was king. Seen the best and worst of it here."

"You would see only the worst if you were back at my home. My father has no love of magic, and no care for books. For an intelligent man, he's let his power rule his better senses." When did that happen? Had his father always been like that, or had the pressures of ruling finally gotten to him?

Tendo made a thoughtful noise. "I've seen plenty of that type before coming through here. Every one thinking they're something special, and self-importance just doesn't go over well here. If I may speak my mind, your royal highness?"

"Of course, Master Choi."

"You'll fit in perfectly. Just give it time, and if you need to, I'm here to listen. I know you've got your well-armored shadow, but I might be able to tell you some things that he wouldn't."

"Thank you. I'm glad to hear that."

***

"What do you think?"

"We have no reason to disbelieve them." Gunter paced the floor behind the chair Newt was sitting in. "But the true problem is with only rumors, we have no idea where to start looking."

"There's one person, probably the same one that rumor slipped off the forked tongue of to start with," Ilja suggested, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. There was no mistaking his distaste, his expression mirroring Newt's, as he shook his head. "Don't disagree with me, Gunter. You know he's the best source of information across the three lands."

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it; you know I don't either. He leaves a smell wherever he goes."

"The last thing he brought us," Newt said, frowning, "still had blood on it."

The three fell silent except for Gunter's footfalls.

Newt said, a note of resignation in his voice, "Contact him."

***

"Why can't I wear the same robe? Certainly nobody noticed it earlier," Hermann said, and gave the man a cross look.

"I'm sorry we left you that way. Newt's enthusiasm gets the best of him. Here, no extra layers. Do you need any assistance?"

When he tested the weight of the necklace and found it bearable, Hermann shook his head. "Not necessary. Shall I just come down when ready?"

"Newt will be up shortly. He'll probably stink of the stables. As I said before, there are no expectations. Sit and eat, and don't rise to anyone's bait. The alcohol flows, and people forget themselves."

Hermann snorted derisively. "Forget themselves. Of course, I'm very familiar with people 'forgetting themselves'." When his father was in a foul mood, drink of any sort would reduce him to hurling insults.

"I'll be to your left," Gunter said. "If the Kaidanovskis have disturbed you so far, they'll have their attention on Newt."

"No, they haven't bothered me at all. I just know how alcohol can change people. I prefer to stay far away from it." And after his last binge, even if he'd done it very purposefully, Hermann really wanted nothing more of it. He didn't even particularly care for the taste of wine.

"I'll indicate when it's appropriate for you to go, if you wish. Newt is very clever with his consumption, and will stay there until all hours of the morning if the company is good. I suspect it will be a very late night."

"I did get that idea. They looked to be very close friends."

"Yes. You should ask Newt about it some time."

That wasn't likely to happen.

 

The robe was muted compared to the previous ones, and Hermann had to admit he felt special in it as they walked down to the dining hall. Smoke gray trimmed in short black fur that matched the veil perfectly. But the real beauty of them was the gold thread that made the elaborate designs all down the arms and front. And then the massive necklace over top actually gave it a look of proper grandeur, instead of just being a trophy.

And yet, it felt comfortably casual, more lightweight and just more _him_.

Newt was practically bouncing as he walked, obviously excited to get to the feast and speak with his friends further. He kept looking at Hermann with his mouth open, ready to speak, only to turn back forward and say nothing at all.

It was getting a little tedious. "Do you have something to say?" Hermann finally said, certainly not as harshly as he might have if he'd been back at home. "Please do so instead of continuing to gape at me."

"Harsh." Newt shrugged. "I'm just in a good mood. You should have seen that snow dragon! It was amazing! Oh, and those crystals or gems or whatever they are, they came from the sky! You should see them. Tomorrow. I'm not sure what to do with exactly yet."

Regret was a strong word to use for what Hermann was feeling, getting Newt talking. Truly, when Newt was excited in this way, it was better to not provoke his pointless rambling. But there was no denying his own interest in these mysterious gems that had allegedly come from the sky. The dragon he would pass on every day though.

Newt continued to talk about nothing Hermann really cared about until they arrived at the hall. That truly caught him by surprise, as it was lavishly decorated, completely unlike what Hermann had seen of it to that point, and everyone there was dressed in their finest. It was very close to being a revelation at what the Dragon King's court was truly like.

The music stopped and everyone stood. As they walked up to the table, everyone bowed as they passed; Hermann hoped his embarrassment wasn't too obvious. Taking his cue from Newt, Hermann nodded politely, whether the people cared about his acknowledgment or not. It was simply the proper thing to do.

At the front, Newt sat, followed shortly by Hermann, and then everyone else. No words were spoken, no grand declarations, just a simple wave of Newt's hand to get the music started again, and conversation picked up from there.

The food was more elaborate than usual, but Hermann wasn't turning it away. He preferred the heavier spice and seasoning, and the extra vegetables, and then the dessert… Dessert was not a normal part of dinner, so to have a sweet corn cake covered in tart fruit sitting in front of him was the definition of temptation itself. Even if he'd been contemplating leaving earlier, he would have stayed for this.

As he cut a piece of the cake, planning on sliding to his own plate, Newt held his out instead. "A piece for me, please." As he leaned over further, to get his plate closer to the cake, he added quietly, "You look very handsome."

"Thank you," Hermann replied, very nearly dropping the cake on the table instead of Newt's plate. His cheeks were definitely burning as he got himself his own piece of cake, having the same coordination problems. Such a simple statement shouldn't do such things to him, especially since he was trying to maintain his resentment toward Newt (the anger had been a lost cause).

The first bite was a thing of beauty to Hermann, and he closed his eyes as he chewed. It was  sweet and tart and a little savory, and just maybe he made some kind of noise, because when he opened his eyes, Newt leaned over and asked, "Good?"

What was the point in being contrary? Agreeing might get it on the menu more often. "Very." Just a brief smile, and Newt left him alone again.

After a smaller second piece, just his empty plate in front of him, Gunter tapped him on the arm and nodded.

To not be quite so obvious, Hermann sat and waited, sipping water while he pretended to listen to conversations he was not a part of. This didn't last long though, because it was more lonely being a room of people than by himself at the library. Hermann touched Newt's shoulder. "Your majesty, if I may be allowed to take my leave?"

"Oh, Hermann, you're done? Are you sure?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

"If you'd prefer I stay-"

"Oh no, if you want to go, I won't make you stay."

Hermann stood and bowed, but before he could make it more than two steps, there was a hand on his arm.

"Your majesty, this is the second time you have failed to introduce us. Are we not worthy of meeting him? I insist we have breakfast together to have a proper conversation!" The woman, who had done all of the speaking, looked up at Hermann. "Is it your duty to teach him manners? He spends too much time with dragons and forgets them."

Newt laughed, a little wildly. "Sure, breakfast! Is that OK, Hermann?"

"Of course, your majesty."

The woman, only known to him as Captain Kaidanovski, squeezed his arm lightly before releasing it. "I look forward to it."

 

The music and chatter, growing louder as the alcohol continues to flow, was audible as Hermann sat in the bath. It wasn't bad, actually. He was pleasantly full and had as long as he wanted to sit and relax. His hip had been giving him more trouble lately, but he merely attributed it to the increased amount of walking he'd been doing since he arrived and the slightly cooler climate.

His thoughts wound their way idly through his memories, and of course they latched on to the one thing that was totally inappropriate.

Hermann knew he preferred men, unlike his brothers, but that was the extent of it. There'd never been a crush on anyone, just the appreciation of a bared chest, or the casual flex of an arm, and he'd never had any image in mind when he'd pleasured himself. He was a weedy, unattractive prince of an angry king; how would he have ever found someone?

But now all he could think of was Newt's dark shape, the way his shoulders moved, the sound of his breathing…

What was Newt thinking of when he did it? And how was that anything Hermann should be thinking about?

With a sigh, Hermann leaned his head back. The setting sun's orange light warmed his face as he trickled water down his neck and chest. If this was all that was required for these formal dinners, it was something he could easily deal with. His previous experiences, sitting at the head table, back stiff, staring out blankly over a silent hall, listening to his father grumble over whatever petty issues under his attention.

It was so clear, so obvious that it was so much better here than back at home, but it just couldn't be. It couldn't be because the only reason he'd even come was something he'd never chosen. Things had happened that shouldn't happen to anyone, and he'd been treated as an object. And _somehow_ it was still better than hiding himself at home.

Just thinking about it made him worry, not for Dietrich or Bastien, but Karla. He could only hope her future was brokered the same way his had been, someplace that suited her, where she could find happiness. Perhaps he could have a conversation with Newt about her. Maybe there was no place for her here, but surely Newt knew of an eligible king or prince or duke tha could use a smart and pretty wife.

Hermann laughed suddenly, his voice echoing loudly around him. Who would have ever imagined that _he_ would be the first of the four of them to be married off. As much as he loved his brother, Bastien was a vain little shit, and probably complained about it every day.

Yes, as soon as he was out of the bath, he'd write a letter. Surely Newt would allow him to send one back to his family. He had no secrets to share, no knowledge of anything beyond the most basic of things that most people who'd visited the castle knew. Even if he'd had the desire (which he certainly did not), there wasn't anything for him to reveal.

As if he expected to hear from his father anyway. If a letter ever showed up from him, Hermann would probably be so shocked that he'd immediately show it to Newt, therefore negating any scheme to pass information. He was a man that never claimed to be a spy.

Hermann dragged himself from the water, shivering in the air, and hurried to dry off. He'd discovered, through idle trial and error, a way to tie his breechcloth to be a little less… To be more modest, because he wasn't terribly comfortable being bare-arsed as casually as everyone else around the castle seemed to be.

Once he was dry, it was in this that he sat at the desk and thought about what to write.

***

Newt woke up, still mostly dressed, sprawled on top of the blankets of the bed. He'd definitely had too much to drink and stayed up too late, an obvious thing by the phial sitting next to the bed. He didn't hesitate to open it and drink down the contents before he buried his face in a pillow.

It was fast, and only a few a minutes later he was mostly human again, certainly enough to get into some fresh clothing. His internal clock was telling him he was late for breakfast, and since Hermann was absent from the room Newt could only imagine it was he and the Kaidanovskis, and some kind of vague disaster.

Once he was in fresh clothing, though not more than necessary, Newt hurried out. There were voices, but the small table was empty save for the food. Oh no. Peeking in on the tub, he saw the three of them in it, and while he felt bad for Hermann (because seriously, how did this actually come to be?), Newt still had to stifle a laugh. He didn't look upset at all, just kind of shocked, like he was also confused how he ended up there.

"Hey," Newt said cheerily, "did I miss breakfast?"

"Your majesty is never late for breakfast, of course. Now bring the rest of that food in here where we can reach it and join us."

Utterly fearless and shameless, as soon as the pair had gotten old enough to ride the full-sized dragons, they'd done so without hesitation. Newt had admired them when they were still just kids to him, and now there was no stopping them.

"There's enough room here for a small king to fit. Tell him, Hermann. Make your husband obey you. Or has it not been long enough for you train him properly? I'll tell you how I got my _mishka_ to behave."

The giant man (he'd been big even as a kid, towering over Newt at all ages) smiled, somehow both pleasantly and with a threatening edge at the same time.

Hermann looked at Newt, his eyes wide in disbelief and a hint of pleading.

The only way he could really help was to do as asked and join in. That would take the attention off Hermann, even if the four would all be _very_ close. The tub was large for one, he'd say perfect for two. More than that and it was important to be friends. "My kingdom, my hospitality," Newt said and gave a little bow.

He pulled the wooden cabinet that held the various bathing necessities closer to the tub, then fetched the serving platter. He left it on the cabinet, and while the Kaidanovskis were helping themselves to food (and Hermann just kept out of their way as they reached over him) Newt got undressed. "Sorry, Hermann," he said as he squeezed in, doing his best to give Hermann as much room as possible. "Cozy, huh?"

"It's something."

***

Hot springs. That was why the Kaidanovskis were so casual. It was a regular social gathering to sit around in hot water, nothing against the skin except water, and eat and drink (and drink and drink).

Hermann would be forgoing any visits no matter how welcoming they were. It wasn't the teasing, as they seemed to be pulling him into it, rather than making him the target. And Newt didn't seem to mind being the subject of their joking.

"Sorry if that was uncomfortable."

Hermann shrugged. That's all it had been, uncomfortable. Yes, he'd been waiting for the unpleasant comments to come, mocking his skinny physique or scars or his manhood, but they hadn't. "It wasn't that bad, but I wouldn't wish to make it a regular occurrence."

"It's not. Oh, here." Newt reached up and rubbed Hermann's cheek. "Got some red on you still."

An insistent kiss on both cheeks, by husband and wife, in farewell. And while Hermann had stood well back, he'd watched them leave on their dragons. With a more detached and critical eye, he appreciated the sheer improbability of a creature that large (and heavy, he knew) actually being able to fly.

"Thank you. They seem like good allies."

"The best. But…" Newt looked around them quickly. "It wasn't just a friendly visit. I don't want to get too into it; it's just rumors right now anyway. We'll be getting another formal visit in the near future, but…" Newt shook his head, looking thoroughly agitated. "I don't want you to get involved in this. I don't trust the guy, and my uncles don't trust him."

"Whatever you think is best, but who could be so troubling? Surely a single man poses no threat." Perhaps to his father, but surely there was no one powerful enough to pose a challenge to Newt's stable of dragons. Hermann's whole body clenches when he realizes Newt is still gently rubbing his cheek, and surely the smudge of lip coloring was gone by now.

"He's dangerous and untrustworthy, and I don't want him anywhere near you." Newt let his hand fall away, and he smiled tightly. "I've got to protect you. What kind of husband would I be if I didn't?"

Hermann looked at him, brows furrowed and mouth a thin, unhappy line. "I will not be shut away without reason. Tell me about this man."

"Come on." They started walking back inside. "He's a merchant, or at least that's what he uses to maintain an appearance of legitimacy. Travels all over, has his fingers in all kinds of trade, one end of the world to the other. But if you can pay the price, he's also well known as a broker of information."

"He's a s-"

"He knows where to go to find out things people don't want known. So you can see why I don't think it's wise for the two of you to meet."

Hermann was nearly convinced by the tense look on Newt's face and sincerity in his eyes, but it still wasn't quite enough. "Surely he must already know about me then. About this arrangement."

"I'm sure, but I don't even care. I'm not putting you out there to be bartered around like a report on troop numbers. I am very serious about this, Hermann. So please, understand. I don't like this at all."

"I understand, Newt." And he did, because the more Newt spoke of this mysterious villain, the more worried he started to look.

"All I ask is that when he arrives, you just stay in the library. If he insists on dinner, I'll have yours sent up. Hannibal Chau is a festering boil we haven't figured out the best way to lance yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mishka = little bear


	11. Chapter 11

"What is that?"

"My magic."

Chuck tilted his head to the side. "What's it do?"

"I'm not entirely sure yet."

"What good is it then?"

"I don't know yet."

Then Chuck frowned. "It's just numbers, except you put letters in it too."

"It's very advanced mathematics. I doubt you'll ever have to concern yourself with it."

"I'm not dumb!"

Mako snickered quietly next to him.

"I didn't say you were. This is very advanced, and from all my experience I've never seen a practical use for it in my daily life. And you'll be a very talented dragon rider, won't you?"

Chuck nodded, his face scrunched in grim determination.

"You will continue to hone your skills there. This is where I practice mine."

A long pause. "But what does it _do_?"

Hermann chuckled. "When I find out, I'll tell you. Have you finished your work?"

Without replying, Chuck looked back down at his book and started scratching away with his quill.

On the other hand, Mako stared at Hermann.

"Are _you_ done with your work, Mako?"

She nodded.

"Let me look over it then." Mako was a better student than Chuck, without a doubt, but it seemed more a matter of distraction than intelligence. If he could get the boy to settle down and concentrate, he'd do much better. It would be preferable to have a small talk with Master Hansen, but Hermann didn't feel comfortable doing that at all.

The small chime that he'd set indicated they had ten minutes left. "You know what that means, Chuck," Hermann warned.

"I know!"

Mako turned her attention to him. As time ticked down, Chuck writing furiously, she started to squirm in her seat. "Hurry," she said finally, unable to handle the pressure.

"I can do it. It's easy." His quill never stopped moving until he violently shoved his work toward Hermann and slumped in his chair.

Without even checking it, Hermann smiled. "Excellent, Chuck." The effort alone was enough to balance whatever mistakes he'd made (though from his previous work, Hermann didn't think he'd find many). "Go on, you two."

The kids rarely stood on ceremony, which Hermann appreciated. They were honest with their thoughts and feelings, didn't hide them from him because of his position. They were still eager to learn, even when he had to give them a gentle push. But they were kids, and there was a certain amount of restless energy to be dealt with that Hermann would have never imagined he could handle.

No, somehow he was turning out to be a half-decent teacher to them. He'd never met Master Hansen, though he'd seen him several times, and he'd never seen General Pentecost at all, so he hoped the kids were talking about him positively to their parents.

"Kids looked happy today," Tendo commented as Hermann returned the day's books.

"They don't usually?"

"Some days they look happier than others."

"Some days they refuse to do what they're told."

"Oh, the taskmaster is on duty."

Hermann smirked and shook his head. "Hardly. Chuck is just naturally combative." A thought occurred to him, and with the library empty for the time being, this was the perfect opportunity. "You said you've been here since Newt's father was king."

"That is correct."

"Could you tell me about a certain person that I believe has visited court more than once?"

"And this visitor's name?"

"Hannibal Chau."

The reaction could not be categorized as violent, but was certainly immediate as Tendo frowned. "Bad news. That's as much as you need to know."

"I'm afraid I must insist. Newt has already warned me plenty, but won't give me any kind of specifics. I'd just like to know out of curiosity." Hermann held up his right hand. "I do not plan on doing anything stupid, like popping in for a look, or contacting the man."

"I don't know what to tell you really. He is, at his very base, a broker. Of merchandise or information, or any unscrupulous thing you might want. He uses whatever currency is most valuable, and sometimes that's blood." Tendo pulled out a book thicker than any other in the library and opened it.

Hermann saw an endless list of dates and mostly names. It was something like a ledger he realized almost immediately, and for whatever reason his magic was churning in the pit of his stomach. "Do you think I could look at that?" he asked, breathing heavily in an effort to control his sudden nausea.

"Uh, sure." Tendo's fingers fingers closed tightly over the edges of the book as he watched Hermann closely. "You don't look good."

"I just…" Something about what he was seeing in the book was doing this. With shaking hands, Hermann got out his quill and flipped open his journal. He then turned his attention to getting ink on it so he could start to write what was beginning to bubble in his mind. So intent on this, he didn't notice Tendo eyeing his open journal, nor what it was open to. "There's something here," Hermann said and flipped the journal to a blank page.

He never touched the ledger, that Tendo still had a deathgrip on, but his eyes moved from the pages of that to his rapidly filling journal page. This went on for an unknown amount of time to Hermann. All he knew, when the ideas tapered off and the insistence of the magic that he use it, was that he had filled several pages with the same numbers and lines as he had countless times before.

This time, for the first time, Hermann could see the patterns, see how they played out. Those dates and events, the ones already passed, within the numbers, stretched out to connect to things in the now and what he could only guess was the future.

"What does it mean?'

Hermann blinked, only just realizing Tendo was there and staring at him. "It's the past." His fingertips skimmed the page, feeling a kind of magical sparking where they passed over ink. He laid his hand flat, and could see all of the numbers come together like abstract pieces of a puzzle to produce static images in his mind's eye. As he moved his hand, more images flashed, too many to understand together, too disconnected to make true sense of.

Removing his hand from the page made the world snap into existence in front of, especially Tendo's worried expression. "I need to go and study this," Hermann said, short of breath as he gathered his things. "Thank you, Tendo. Without that, I don't know if I would have ever come to this discovery."

"Go do it, brother." The words were barely out of his mouth before Hermann was hurrying out.

***

This was the third day Newt had entered the bedchambers to find Hermann at the desk, as unmoving as stone. Curiosity finally overcame his good sense, and he walked over. "Hey, Hermann. What're you doing?"

"Do you see it?"

Newt looked over Hermann's shoulder at the papers spread over the desk. It looked like all his other pages, and completely inscrutable to him. "I guess I don't. What is it."

There was only one other person he'd been this close to when magic of such an intensity flared to life. It made Newt grit his teeth at the high pitched whine that emanated from Hermann. And the only thing the man was doing was running his finger along a single line on the page, dotted with numbers its entire length. There was a similar line below that one, but the numbers were all different until both lines ended on a separate page and turned into a mass of tiny writing that Newt couldn't make out.

"This is you," Hermann said, still with his finger on the line. Then he removed it to touch the other line. "This is me."

He started tracing it, and again that whining noise that made Newt's hair stand on end.

Hermann turned the page to reveal a single line and all the blank space around it covered with more numbers.

It was amazing, and If Newt could understand any of it, he'd-

"And this is us."

For some reason, that just sucked all the air out of Newt. Maybe he'd been thinking very deliberately of Hermann and himself, never as an 'us'. "What does that mean?" he asked in little more than a whisper.

"This is our future." When Hermann laid his hand flat and spread out his fingers, it covered most of the page.

Newt hadn't noticed how large Hermann's hands seemed to be until that point. "The future?" Without thinking, Newt put his hand on Hermann's shoulder and squeezed. "That's _amazing_."

But when Hermann looked back at him, he didn't appear pleased in the least. In fact, he looked terrified. "The future. It's frightening."

All Newt could think of was that time when he thought the future seemed bright and infinite, just before his father died. "It's only frightening if you let it be."

A shadow passed over Hermann's features, his brows drawing together in anger. "It's _here_! This is it! This isn't a dreamer's folly or a worrier's fear. I see it!" The anger shifted back to fear, deeper than before though. "I see things I don't wish to. Bad things."

Newt's answer was immediate. "Nothing is definite." Not even death, but that was something he just couldn't share. "If you can see it, then you can prevent it, right?"

"I don't know. This is the future, right here. How do I change what's already happened?"

"But it hasn't happened. That's what's so fascinating about the future, right? Possibility!"

"Uncertainty."

"Promise!"

"Disappointment."

"Potentiality!"

"I'm amazed you know that word."

Newt laughed suddenly and squeezed Hermann's shoulder again. "If that's _our_ future, then I'm part of it, and I'll be there no matter what happens."

 

The scoundrel Hannibal Chau arrived earlier than anticipated, and without warning. Yes, they'd been waiting for him, but the man just showed up and demanded an audience.

_Demanded_. Like he was a king instead of a barely-tolerated bandit.

"Newt, wake up."

It was early, Newt could tell. Too early. "Huh?"

His uncle was standing over him, and the look on his face was all business. "He's here."

"Damn. All right." Sleepy weariness turned to irritated wakefulness in an instant. Newt turned and shook Hermann's shoulder under the blankets gently. "Hermann?"

An indistinct noise from him, hidden under the blankets still.

"Hermann, I need you to listen and understand me. Please."

With a slow, shifting, Hermann rolled over and looked at Newt through mostly closed eyes. "Wha?"

"Hannibal Chau's here. Remember what I said?"

Hermann nodded, looking slightly more alert.

"Good. I'll have breakfast sent up for you. Now go back to sleep, OK?" He waited until Hermann's eyes were closed again before tucking the blankets snugly around him, then got out of bed. "Can you have breakfast sent up here while I get ready?" he asked Gunter in a whisper. "I'll be down as soon as I can. That man doesn't deserve a full audience."

"Of course."

Newt dressed neatly, but without any sort of ceremony, none of his expected royal trappings other than the crown. The man would give him none of that respect anyway, and one day that behavior would grab him in the jewels and twist. But not today, not when he might have some important information.

As he was about to walk out, Newt looked back to see Hermann breathing slow and evenly, back to sleep. It looked nice, to be so relaxed and unconcerned by the vermin knocking at the front doors.

His uncle was already waiting for him when he finally got down to the throne room. They walked in together to find Chau and Ilja glaring at one another.

"Chau, took your time getting here," Newt said, staying well back from the man. He was there with his uncles and Chau was alone, but Newt didn't trust him in any way.

"Yeah, yeah. Not all of us can just fly over when we get the imperial summons." Hannibal looked bored, as he always did unless there was something _very_ tempting in his sight. "So what do you want, kid? I've got other matters to attend to; I only came here as a courtesy."

Ilja snorted, lip curled in a sneer.

"Courtesy. Then why don't you tell us what you know about the assassination plot friends have warned us of." Newt was maintaining his composure, even when what he wanted was to punch Hannibal Chau right in that jeweled eyepatch. Barring that, since the man was so much larger than he, just splashing his fine clothing with a honey bucket would do.

If anyone doubted what a criminal Hannibal Chau was, all they had to do was look at his clothing. No simple merchant found the coins for fine tailored silk, exotic furs, and that amount of jewelry. And no simple merchant marked his skin with the brand of the lawless sea, where only might guaranteed a ship's safety. Newt suspected the man had got his start there as a pirate and had lived his whole life as an outlaw.

But Chau was smart, or there was no way he would have ever been able to elevate himself to such a position of power among so many kingdoms. That, more than anything, was what made him so dangerous. There were secrets that could topple any kingdom, destroy any king, no matter how many dragons were under his service.

"Rumors? I don't deal in rumors, _your majesty_." Hannibal smiled, like a beast more than a man, revealing several teeth crafted expertly in precious metal.

"Lost another tooth, Chau?" Ilja asked, presenting his own mean-spirited smile. "Who did you try to swindle? Or maybe you came across someone who wasn't afraid of a low-life brute in fancy clothes."

The smile gone, Chau's hand fell automatically to the pommel of his surprisingly undecorated sword. It was a leftover of his pirating days, still bearing the marks of whatever ship he'd last served on. Nobody had ever marked him as a sentimental man. "I said I don't deal in rumors, and if that's the only reason you've called me here, then I'll be on my way."

Newt sighed. "If you truly don't know about this rumor, this very specific rumor, then please do us a favor and leave. But if you _do_ know something, then…" The next words caused him visible pain. "Then I would be in your debt. I don't take these kinds of threats lightly."

Slowly, Chau's hand fell back to his side, and he rubbed his chin with his opposite. "I don't deal in rumors, but maybe I've heard some along the lines of what you're saying."

Of course. "Please then, accept our hospitality. For the day." Newt nodded respectfully (however reluctantly).

"I knew you were a smart kid. I know my way to the dining hall. No need for an escort."

"Oh, but we insist." Gunter and Ilja took place on either side of the big man and walked out with him.

Newt took a deep breath, a pressure that had been building relieved suddenly.

From the shadows to his right, a small shape slithered out from underneath a pile of coins. It twined its way around around Newt's leg, the way a cat would, and looked up at him expectantly.

Newt's studies under the physician and his travels had shown him a myriad of wildlife, and he'd come to learn something common between frog, insect, and dragon: small and colorful meant danger. The little creature, hardly bigger than a dog, sparkled like a jewel in the sunshine with scales of an unnaturally bright yellow and green. It slept most of the day under the bulk of the hoard because the gold was resistant to its very powerful acid.

Perhaps it was only something a person with the tongue could understand, but Newt thought the dragon at his feet was a very sweet and gentle creature. "I don't trust him."

A quiet hissing, more like a snake than anything, and the dragon slipped out its long tongue to test the air.

"Oh no, I'm not even going to let him _see_ Hermann." Newt crouched and extended his arm, allowing the dragon to carefully climb up it and rest on his shoulders. It was light, even for its small size. "And I'll ask him to leave after dinner."

More hissing.

"Eventually. You know he didn't have a good experience with a dragon when he was younger. He's still afraid."

Yet more hissing, and a tongue that tickled Newt's ear.

"Yes, even an adorable little thing like you." Newt rubbed the dragon's head. "Will you watch him when we're in here? He might fall for your whiskers. Maybe he'll fall for mine."

***

Hermann would not say he was falling for Newt. Just no. It was something he wouldn't allow, no matter how small he wrote to fill up the page with all the things he observed about the man.

His king.

Before, Hermann's father had been his king, and he'd never understood that there could be anyone living under that kind of control. Now…

Now Hermann would resist as long as he could because he still had things to be upset about. How long that would last he couldn't predict; he'd never been in a place where he could nurse these kinds of feelings.

Sitting there, eating such delicious food, half-dressed and allowing his bare torso to see the sun as it shone in the opposite windows. His siblings would never believe it. But then they'd never been very confident in him at all because he was so different. They worried for him, yes, didn't exclude him, but didn't really know what to do with him either. Not that he ever knew what to do with himself.

And it was become more clear with every passing day that his memories were not fond, not happy, not positive compared to what he was slowly building here. Not that he'd reached the point of fond yet, and happy was possibly overreaching since he still had issues to work through, but outside of that single area (that one area he shared a bed with every night), things were better.

He opened a biscuit, still steaming from the oven, and smeared butter on it before liberally drizzling honey over it. This he could eat for every meal and never get tired of it. Of course, he'd also love to sit in silent solitude, enjoying the sun and the unexpected freedom of not being constantly covered from head to toe, but he was still so very used to not getting what he wanted.

So used to it, he had stopped wanting things to avoid the disappointment a decade ago.

The honey suddenly was over-sweet, the biscuit gummy, and his earlier food a rock in his belly. It was time to occupy himself in the library, to turn his mind to useful musings instead of painful memories.

Abandoning breakfast with a last longing look at his half uneaten biscuit, Hermann finished getting dressed. Lunch would be problematic unless Newt found him to let him know the coast was clear. Yes, Hermann was curious about Hannibal Chau, but the look on Newt's face, and then Tendo's was enough for him to want to avoid direct contact. Certainly Hermann's magic made him capable of defending himself (his old magic, the stuff he used to practice by turning old pieces of armor into small crumpled balls of steel), but he'd never used it on a person.

The thought of a confrontation getting to that point made his palms sweaty. He was not good with confrontation at all, not after the dragon.

_This is what he's capable of, and it's savage and ugly. This is level of brutality, even in desperation, is not him. He looks at the corpse, still shuddering and twitching, and even though he's in enough pain that he can't think straight, he regrets it. In the back of the cave, surrounded by a rough nest of protective branches and stones, there is a single egg, as big as his head. He wants to cry; it has nothing to do with the agony in his hip and side._

"You look like you're in a bad state again, brother."

Hermann had found his way to the library without even thinking, and he managed a wan smile for Tendo. "An unpleasant memory. I ruined breakfast with my worrying, and I don't know what I'm going to do about lunch if Hannibal Chau isn't gone by then."

"You could just raid the kitchen," Tendo suggested as if it was an everyday occurrence. "I may or may not be a familiar face down there."

The man's smile was infectious, and Hermann found his own smile was more genuine this time. "Perhaps I'll do that then."

 

His morning routine was blessedly normal, and even Chuck and Mako were well-behaved. Once they were gone, and Hermann's stomach was growling unhappily, he gathered his things for a trip to the kitchens.

It was a long trek since he had to avoid the dining hall, and the kitchens were naturally close to it, but it wasn't any further than the forge and blacksmiths. Hermann was not in great shape, but he was well enough to do this without complaint.

If all things were ideal this would be true.

The first set of stairs, something about a change in the weather made the stone damp and slippery. A single step and Hermann slipped in what looked to be a very mundane accident. He caught himself by grabbing on to the rough wall just two steps down, and composed himself. No harm done, he continued on his way.

The next step turned out to be a challenge, as whatever odd way he'd stretched his leg made it now incapable of supporting his weight. His knee buckled, and with an inarticulate cry, he tumbled the rest of the way down.


	12. Chapter 12

Hermann took several deep breaths until they were even and steady, then opened his eyes. His limbs were folded awkwardly under him, especially his arms where he'd tried to catch himself during the fall. Moving was still too much of an effort; being still and existing in this state of terrified confusion would have to do for the moment.

He'd slipped and fallen, and then fallen again, the rush of fear muting the memory and still coursing through him. It had been the fall before, and now it was idea of moving. Either extreme pain or simply being unable to, both prospects kept him immobile for longer than necessary.

And that annoying flea of a guard that followed him everywhere, where was he now? Nobody had heard his cry? So waiting for some kind of help was foolish; there was no way he was going to stay in a heap at the bottom of the stairs until someone stumbled, literally, across him.

So much for his magic of reading the future. He hadn't seen anything like this with it.

The stone was cold beneath his cheek as he moved his head slightly. When no pain presented itself, he went down each body part until his right leg was the last. Everything else was sore, but functional as he unfolded himself to lay out one the floor. The right leg was the moment of truth though. It had been getting worse, and this…

Yes, the smallest movement, just a shift of his hip to take some pressure off, and Hermann was biting his lip hard at the surge of agony ripping through him. Whatever the problem was, a break or just aggravation, this was not something he could simply get into the bath to relax away. His family had always called him stubborn, but he wasn't stupid.

He needed the physician, but it seemed he'd have to get there by himself.

_No pain, there is no pain. Survival, live, no pain._

In actuality, it was less painful than the injury originally, but that was of little comfort because _that_ memory would never leave him. The agony of death was probably less than the weeks of suffering he'd been put through while his body had slowly healed. So. No pain.

No pain, just stand up and start moving.

The odd echoing noise as he put his hands down and tried to push himself up, those were his own sobs. They neither helped nor hurt, so he ignored them as he got his left knee beneath him (leaving his right leg stretched out straight) and could at least act like he was alive instead of a corpse.

The words came out, between sobs, as a surprise, and with more force than Hermann had ever really spoken. "Fuck these fucking stairs." His lips twisted into a grimace, the closest he could get to a smile. The stairs were the only thing he could blame in the matter, and they were going to receive the full force of his anger.

Later. After he'd managed to stand by clawing his way up the wall and leaning all his weight against it, Hermann glared at the stairs, then concentrated on getting to the physician. That meant… He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts straight.

That meant this way. Maybe.

_Where else would it mean? It's a single straight corridor. Get it together!_

Easier said than done when all Hermann could do was think about how much he wished he could just die to escape the torture device that was his own body. Simply breathing helped distract him, feeling his lungs expand and contract, wholly separate from his hip. The cold stone beneath his fingertips helped mentally, to let him know he was still alive, still moving.

It also ended up with him just following the wall because he couldn't move without leaning against it until he was somewhere he was completely unfamiliar with. But he'd come so far (or maybe not, he wasn't sure), what would turning around accomplish? Forward, ever forward, show a strength his brothers didn't think he had to see the smiles wiped off their faces. And Karla would bring him sweets from the kitchen because the cooks liked her, and Mother wouldn't say anything even though she found the used dishes tucked under the bed.  Father wouldn't visit him, of course, because he had no use for a lame child, which just meant Hermann could stay in bed with his secret books.

The wall gave way beneath his weight suddenly, sending Hermann crashing to the floor. His vision was blinded by the soul-encompassing flare of pain, and his hands flailed in an effort to get a hold of his spear. Without it he was completely defenseless, left to be little more than very short chapter of his family's history.

Nothing his hands encountered remotely resembled his spear, just cold stone and hay as the smell of dragon filled his head. hermann screamed in fear and pain and rage because it was the only thing he could do even if it accomplished nothing. Even if it was the last thing he did, it would be a final act of defiance. He wasn't going to lay there and die silently.

Something clamped down on his shoulder, and his every instinct was to fight, to struggle, but the fight against the pain was worse than the creature ready to tear him apart. He could feel the heat, the movement of the beast, the tug of its teeth as it started to drag him. So it was going to toy with him first. It was nothing less than he deserved.

***

Having Hannibal at the table felt like a betrayal of sorts. Just a slap in the face of everyone in the kingdom. Good people Hannibal Chau would take advantage of in an instant if the opportunity presented itself.

"You know, kid, I'm a little disappointed in the offerings. I can get better food than this on the road."

"Then don't eat it, since you invited yourself," Ilja answered, airing the frustration they all felt.

"Let's not be hasty now. Are you this quick to kick out all your guests?"

"Just the uninvited ones," Newt said, picking listlessly at his food.

It didn't seem to bother Hannibal at all. "Oh, but you forget that you did invite me. So I guess you've got nobody but yourself to blame." Rarely did the look of smugness drop from Hannibal's face; he knew exactly when he was in a position of power, or at least favor, and didn't hesitate to let anyone know, even a king.

Newt _hated_ that. "I want to know what you've heard!"

"We're eating. This isn't a time for business, your majesty. Where's your hospitality?"

It was about to be jammed right down Hannibal Chau's throat.

***

Every slow movement, every grating touch of his weight on the floor was agony, and consciousness wavered on and off. They'd abandoned him, either believed him dead already or just didn't care.

Somehow, Hermann found enough breath in him, through the pain determined to squeeze the life from him, to call out. "Dietrich!" If he was able, Dietrich would come. Dietrich understood the danger of the task, knew that Hermann was not a warrior. Dietrich would come.

What condition he'd find Hermann in, there was no telling just yet.

Something, jagged and unforgiving dug into the rear of his thigh, the meat of it, and raked over it. There was enough left in him, that has feeble call for his brother hadn't spent all of his air, that he screamed. Wildly, Hermann flailed his arms for anything in reach.

Weight fell on them immediately, pinning them down, and something covered his face. His air was restricted, but there was enough still for him to take one desperate gasp before sudden blackness sucked him into its depths.

***

Spending the entire day with Hannibal Chau, all his remarks and jokes and denigrating comments, was a tiring thing. When dinner rolled around, Newt was too tired to do more than pick at his food.

The man was a master of speaking without saying anything, and he'd done so for long enough that Newt never wanted to hear his voice or his laugh again. And not a peep of this rumor that was the point of keeping him around in the first place.

"What's wrong, kid? Don't like your own food?"

"Company's making me ill."

"Used that one already. You need to settle down."

Newt was speechless. He stared at Chau, his mouth hanging open, in disbelief.

Before anything actually came to mind (and it probably wouldn't have been good), a guard came rushing up to him.

"Your majesty! Your majesty, the physician requests your presence immediately!"

"What? Why?"

The guard leaned over so he could say as quietly as possible, "The prince consort has had an accident."

Without a second thought for Hannibal Chau, Newt stood and hurried off.

It was an odd sight when he arrived, to see two dragons sitting outside the door, but that would wait. " _I want to know what happened_ ," he said to them before going inside. "Where's Hermann? What happened?" he said the moment the door was shut behind him.

The physician knew better than delay the situation longer than necessary, and showed him back to the small bed Hermann was currently in. "I don't know what happened. I've kept him sedated because of the pain since he arrived."

Newt heard him, but was too distracted by how terrible Hermann looked to understand the words. "Why'd you tie him down?"

"To stop him from thrashing about and hurting himself further." Lane pulled the blanket back to reveal Hermann's hip and leg. It was discolored and swollen against the rest of his pale skin. "Aside from the abrasions, which are insignificant, he looks to have fallen and strained the joint here. That will be fine with a little rest, but the leg is going to need more drastic measures. I was waiting for you to begin treatment."

This was not something new. These types of injuries were common, whether someone feel from a ladder, was thrown from a dragon, or slipped on wet stones at the river. Hermann was not special.

But he was.

"Do it."

"He won't feel a thing, your majesty," Lane assured him. "Not until he wakes up anyway."

Newt had fallen, when he was much younger, and hurt his arm. He'd gone through this same treatment, but the needle used on him hadn't been nearly as large as the one that was about to pierce Hermann's skin. He held his breath.

While he knew he was a wreck, sweating and nervous, the physician looked as calm as ever. His hands, weathered and bordering on gnarled, were steady as he pushed the needle deep into the muscle. When it reached a depth that only he knew was appropriate, Lane compressed the plunger to force the contents into Hermann's leg. With the needle then removed, the physician held a cloth to the insertion point. "He'll have to remain in bed, no walking at all and a minimum of movement otherwise, for at least a week."

It was the absolute worst when the old man looked at Newt in a kindly manner.

"You may want to move him to a different room for the time though. I would prefer to keep him here, but I know it's not the most comfortable."

For whatever reason, maybe the idea that it was bad enough that Hermann needed to be watched over so closely, Newt was choked up. Swallowing back terror, Newt turned away, unable to deal with how still Hermann was. Just how close to death he looked.

"He'll be fine. Wait here until he wakes up. You'll see."

Yes, Newt wanted to, but he also had several questions that required answers, and they weren't going to fall into his lap on their own. "Thank you. Take good care of him. I have matters to attend to first."

The two dragons were still waiting outside, looking nervous in the way only dragons could. "I'm not mad," Newt said gently. "But I need to know what happened."

***

He was alive. He had to be because being dead simply couldn't hurt so much. Opening his eyes simply blinded him with bright sunlight, so he kept them closed. "Dietrich."

"Dietrich's not here, your highness. Can you open your eyes? I have some medicine for you."

Hermann opened his eyes a crack, until he adjusted to the bright light and could open them more fully. The room revealed to him was unfamiliar entirely.

"Here, your highness. Drink this to dull the pain."

No, of course Dietrich wasn't there. Dietrich was at home, and Hermann was here. Why had he called for him? The liquid he opened his mouth for was sweet and sent warmth rushing to all his extremities. "How-how long?"

The physician seemed satisfied with whatever condition he was in, and took the bottle away. "Two days."

Two days since… He'd fallen, yes, and then struggled to find his way to the physician, and…

"Your leg and hip were hurt badly. I'm afraid we have to keep you in bed for the next week to give you time to heal. There's a story there that I think Newt would like to tell you very much. If you feel up to it."

"Food?" Hermann's first instinct after asking for food because he was starving was to try and sit up, but bending at the waist sent an interesting sensation of absolute displeasure from his leg up to his empty belly. If trying to sit up went that poorly, he didn't want to find out what throwing up would feel like, so he remained relaxed and reclined.

"I've got it."

Hermann turned his head to see Newt there with a small tray. It wasn't quite relief that he felt, but more of a sense of safety, especially after the sketchy memories of what he'd been through started to assert themselves.

"Speak quickly. He'll sleep soon."

Newt sat on the low stool next to the bed, and offered a piece of bread, still warm from the oven, slathered with butter. "I was told quite a story from the dragons."

Whatever Newt had to say, he would say it in his own time. Hermann took the bread, mouth watering, and had to resist eating the piece whole.

"Do you want to hear it?"

"I do."

And Newt told him how two young dragons found the prince consort nearly unconscious at the stables, and dragged him to the physician.

An interesting tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The syringe is technically before their time, but eh, magic.


	13. Chapter 13

As far as forced bed rest, the room wasn't bad. It wasn't as luxurious as the king's bedchambers, but Hermann well understood why staying in there for such an amount of time wouldn't have been a good idea. Here he could look out the window, get sunlight and a breeze on his face, get properly acclimated to day and night while he spent too much time sleeping…

But the bed wasn't as soft and the blankets weren't quite as warm. He knew, if he were to put his bare feet on the floor, it would be cold, and he was limited to the humiliation of sponge baths. That would be the first thing he did when he was allowed,

This was a thing he was counting down in hours as best he could. It was difficult, because of how much he was sleeping (it made coping with the pain easier), and how dulled his mind felt. Even with his journal right there, he couldn't organize his thoughts to do much more than scribble down whatever came to mind. Often, he didn't even remember writing it when he looked back, which was probably a good thing considering how much of it centered on both Newt and his refreshed memories of his battle with a dragon.

And those memories haunted him in his sleep. Terror and pain that he thought he'd put behind him roared to life in his dreams.

"Sh sh. You're safe, Hermann. Go back to sleep. I'm right here to keep you safe."

In the dark, a hand grabbed his own and squeezed. Hermann opened his eyes to see a dark figure next to his bed. He squeezed the hand back, and faded back into sleep.

 

His brother wasn't there, of course. When Hermann woke up, only Lane, the physician, was there and organizing several doses of medication. Forgetting himself, Hermann started to sit up and stopped when he felt his leg twinge.

"Don't move so much just yet, your highness," Lane warned. "Your hip may be better, but your leg will isn't healed. You shouldn't stress it until I'm sure the bone is fully knit together." He gestured to Hermann's leg. "May I?"

"Of course." The indignities of physical examination were something Hermann had put long behind him. Not the experience, but the concern. His dignity was something he realized did nothing for him to improve his situation at home, so he had abandoned it. Abandoned it for what was left of his damaged body, for his sexuality, for his magic.

Cripple. Abnormal. Threat.

And Hermann endured. He pulled back the blanket, exposing his naked hip and leg to the cool air. As much as he didn't want to see what a mess it was, he couldn't help himself. Adding to the puckered flesh on his side and the thick scars across his hip, he now had some very impressive bruising on his thigh.

The physician looked at him and smiled. "It's looking better."

"Is it?" It looked worse than ever in his opinion, even while the swelling had gone down, it was now every color in the rainbow. That transition from yellow to purple, running a mottled green, looked like rotting meat.

"Oh yes. The blood will be reabsorbed, and no one will ever know anything happened. But I'm concerned about the strength of the bone. A fall shouldn't have damaged the bone at all." He stopped, mouth open and ready to say more, then snapped it shut. "You'll be fine."

There was more to that, but at the moment Hermann was willing to let it slide.

"How did you sleep?"

Not well, but he wasn't tired either. "Well enough. Better than last night."

"Good. As soon as breakfast arrives, you know the order." The blanket was moved back into place. "If you don't feel you need the painkiller, save it for later."

"Thank you."

 

Visitors were relatively rare for him. The people he knew in the castle had things to do, and he wasn't even sure he knew them well enough to expect a visit from them. Newt was the only one who was there every day, always with the guarded looks and overbright smile.

This was the first visit when Hermann wasn't drowsy and sluggish. His journal was open on his lap as Newt poked his head through the door.

"Hey, Hermann. How do you feel?"

"Hello, Newt. I'm feeling better."

Whatever his previous answers had been (that he couldn't remember), they must not have been encouraging, because on hearing those basic three words, Newt's entire face lit up. "Hey! You sound better! Actually conscious and not all slurry."

He was actually there with lunch, which Hermann was suddenly ravenous for. "Doc said you could eat anything you wanted, so I brought some chicken, bread, your vegetables, and some pudding with apples and a little cinnamon."

Immediately Hermann sat up and winced. "Cinnamon?"

"Yeah." Newt set the big basket he was carrying on a short stool

_the person in the dark, holding his hand_

near the bed. "You might want to eat the pudding first, actually," he said with an embarrassed grin as he arranged the food on a large plate. "So it doesn't get all warm and oozey."

And when the small bowl topped with slices of apple was set in front of Hermann, he knew that he absolutely would eat it first. "Thank you. It looks delicious."

"After extensive testing, I can guarantee that it tastes delicious too."

It was a little uncomfortable to sit and eat while Newt waited there, but Hermann's grumbling stomach was insistent, demanding to be filled. This was the first meal in four days he could actually remember, and he was going to enjoy it. When he was down to his last few bites of bread generously buttered, Newt cleared his throat. "Yes?" That was the only pause Hermann took while eating.

"When you're feeling up to it, I have some visitors who are curious about how you're doing."

"If tomorrow goes as well as today, that should be fine. It's been… lonely."

Newt looked immediately crestfallen. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit very much. I have-"

"To run a kingdom. I understand. And I'd rather be able to get out of this bed and see other people rather than relying on the generosity of others." Hermann sighed and looked out the window. "I hope I didn't ruin your business with Hannibal Chau."

"Nah." With a shrug, Newt started clearing the empty dishes and putting them back in the basket. "I don't like him, but he's not a stupid man at all. When the king runs out of the room like his crown's on fire, a smart man doesn't take it personally. My uncles managed to work it out."

The vaguely distant look on his face and stiff movements told Hermann that Newt wasn't happy with _how_ things worked out though. "What did he say? Did you learn something useful?"

"More rumors," Newt replied with a snort, but there was a tightness in all the gentle lines of his face that said he was worried about those rumors anyway. "He said that he heard it, less as a rumor and more as a whisper, a well-paying source looking for a skilled assassin. To send here."

Hermann gasped, fear bubbling up. Maybe his parents had kept such plots hidden from him and his siblings, but he'd never heard of any such thing back home. "Here? For you?"

"No idea. Probably. But…" Newt smiled, and it was oddly positive considering the topic of conversation. "But I'm not that easy to get rid of."

"Oh. Well you don't have anything to be worried about then, I guess."

"No, I don't. But I worry about others, that might get hurt or killed while someone is trying to get at me. After the rumor, and then I was told you were hurt…" Newt's knuckles turned white as he abruptly gripped the handle of the basket hard enough to make the material creak with the pressure. "I'm sorry. I'm being over-protective. You can take care of yourself, right? Don't want me looking over your shoulder everyday, and I said I wouldn't do that. I'd give you your space, and-"

"Newt, it's fine." Hermann let his just his fingertips rest on newt's arm, and felt the tensed muscle there. That was certainly something he didn't need, to feel that and the realization that it was perfectly fine for him to acknowledge the desire in himself. So he did the proper thing instead and yanked his hand back. "It was an accident, but who knows how long I would have been there without whoever it was finding me."

Newt released his grip of the basket and reached tentatively for Hermann's hand.

Without hesitation, Hermann took it in his own. "Thank you."

"It was just lunch."

"No, not for lunch, though I thank you for that as well. But for accepting me, taking me in when you shouldn't have. When nobody else would have."

A delicate pink blush bloomed on Newt's freckled cheeks. "Well. Yeah. I wish I could stay here a little longer, but…"

"I understand."

Newt squeezed his hand, then left, looking back once before shutting the door behind him.

The squeeze of Hermann's hand… That was Newt, in the night, sitting at his side.

***

Newt was nervous. He had no idea how well this would go, but there were questions to be answered that he couldn't.

_What is he like? Is he nice? Did he really kill a dragon? Would he hurt us? Would he hurt you?_

"Wait here for me." With a deep breath, Newt opened the door. He was pleased to see Hermann actually sitting up in bed, propped up by a huge mound of pillows. "You look much better!"

Hermann actually smiled. "I feel that I am now getting exponentially better every day."

"Great! Do you think you feel up to some visitors?"

"I do." He immediately began to straighten his blankets.

This was probably a bad idea, at least to not warn Hermann first, but… He'd never agree to it otherwise. "Come in, " Newt said out into the hallway. "Slowly."

One long serpentine neck extended through the doorway, then a second. One was the color of tarnished brass, shimmering olive green along the throat, while the other was a dull coppery color, with the same olive on the throat. The two little dragons were siblings, born from the same clutch of eggs in the stables when they'd been abandoned (for reasons unknown) out in the forest. They knew only the humans in the castle and the other dragons in the stable; they were as domestic as a dragon could be.

"They're totally friendly, Hermann. Don't be afraid." In actuality, Newt was the one that afraid. He didn't want to look at Hermann and see that terror on his face, or worse yet: anger. "I didn't want to surprise you like this, but I knew if I told you, you'd say no. And these were the ones that found you. They dragged you all the way from the stables."

Hermann remained silent, and finally Newt looked up at him.

His hands were clutching his blanket, though his face didn't show fear or anger. There was no emotion at all. Hermann was completely and utterly still, to the point it was hard to tell he was even breathing.

"Hermann?"

"Yes." A whisper, lips barely moving.

"Can they come closer? They won't hurt you. I won't let them."

"Yes."

Newt smiled briefly, then hid it. It wouldn't do to look so pleased while Hermann was obviously frightened.

Frightened, but trying.

"They don't have names. Sometimes they give themselves names, but most of the time they don't. We usually end up going with nicknames, but these guys haven't earned any yet." He trailed his hand over each head.  He took small, slow steps toward the bed with the dragons following closely behind him.

When he was two steps away, Newt stopped. "Do you want to touch them?" The curiosity was pouring off of them to the point even a person without dragon magic would be able to tell.

"I don't know."

"How about just your hand? Just hold it out. I'll control them."

Slowly, with obvious effort, Hermann released his hold on the blanket, and held it out.

"They want to know you. You're new here, but you're important," Newt said, keeping his voice gentle and even, trying his best to diffuse Hermann's anxiety. "You and them will be here together in the castle together, probably for a long time. I know it's probably hard for you to believe right now, but you can be friends."

Newt gestured, and the lighter colored dragon extended its neck to sniff at Hermann's hand, then rub its cheek on it.The other followed suit, doing the exact same thing, then they both sat back and simply looked.

"What do they want?" Hermann asked, glancing from the corner of his eye. "Why are they staring at me?"

"Just don't think about them. Let's just have a conversation. They're curious, and if nobody is actively teaching them, they'll just observe. Like kids. Hey…"

"I will not have them there while I tutor the children. They have their place, and the library is not it."

"Tendo probably wouldn't let them in anyway. Sometimes they get kind of rambunctious. They're like puppies, you know? They're curious and like to play, and eager to please. I bet you could teach them commands even. Herc's more about the kids, and me… I can talk to them, but it doesn't mean they listen. But you, I bet you could really teach them."

Finally, Hermann actually turned his entire head to look at the dragons, regarded them very careful curiosity. "You're sure they're friendly? You say they're like puppies, but I know how sharp the milk teeth of puppies are, and they bite when they're playing."

Newt turned and kneeled, looking very seriously at the dragons (who looked at him in kind). _"No biting. You don't bite Hermann. Or claw him, or hit him with your tail. Or sit on him."_ Newt smiled to show he wasn't angry. _"He's fragile, like an egg."_

They chittered excitedly in reply, nothing really coherent, just excited at the prospect of more interaction with this person that was so important to Newt..

"No biting, no clawing, no hitting with their tails, no sitting on you. They really just want to know you. You're the Prince of the Dragons after all."

***

They sat quietly and watched intently as Hermann and Newt spoke. He watched Newt absently trail his hand across their scaled sides, and the dragons lean into the touch. They spoke of nothing, minor things that didn't involve the serious threat to Newt's life, Hermann's injury, or how poorly their initial attempts at getting to know one another had gone.

Eventually, found his building courage, and as casually as he could, lowered his hand to dangle off the side of the bed. It was a small gesture, met with similar reciprocity. Tiny movements of just his finger, Hermann stroked along the underside of the jaw, feeling his knuckle cross the tiny teeth that protruded.

Maybe small dragons weren't so bad.

 

Hermann woke up the next morning with a weight on his stomach, and panicked for a brief moment. But when he looked, fearing it was a dragon and the weight would shift to his leg and set his healing back, he found a small black cat.

One day a dragon, the next a cat. He'd thought the idea of the mere presence of animals assisting in healing a joke when he'd read it. Stroking the head of the cat, feeling it purr, and feeling stronger than ever, possibly ready to try standing, he didn't plan on being so dismissive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pudding is a German pudding, and cinnamon is something of an exotic spice


	14. Chapter 14

The dreams after that took on a very different tone even though Hermann's waking thoughts were distant from such things. Though he did catch himself watching Newt while the other man was unaware, and wondering if he had a "type" now.

Once his brothers had realized how much of a non-competitor he was for both the throne and ladies of the castle, they seemed all too eager to talk to him about all their own preferences (and once in a while answer a question Hermann asked, red-cheeked). Dietrich had been very "boring" as Bastien put it, always eyeing the women with golden hair and generous bosom. Bastien had developed a taste for the more exotic ladies, dark hair, dark skin, to the point he'd even asked Hermann to assist him once in a wooing. To Bastien's disappointment, she had no interest in him, but had struck up a friendship with Hermann for her short time in their kingdom.

This was an odd pattern he was beginning to notice, that even though he wasn't trying at all, Hermann had made more progress in his personal life than his siblings. Especially his brothers, who were competitive to a fault.

_"Hermann, I want a kingdom. Whether it's this one, or some other, I don't care." Bastien looked like their father in those moment. "I want to rule, and I want a queen. And I'll fight to have those things."_

"Hermann? Hermann, is it another nightmare?"

Newt was watching over him, brow furrowed.

Blinking rapidly, Hermann realized he'd fallen asleep just after lunch. "What? No, no nightmares."

"You were making noises."

Hopefully it wasn't too blatantly obvious what had been going on. Even though the dream had already faded, no details left in mind (thankfully), Hermann was fully aware what the gist of it had been. "It wasn't a nightmare," was the only way he could respond without blushing furiously.

"Ah. I see you made a new friend."

The cat was on him again. "I don't understand. The door is shut. Where does it come from?"

Newt smiled as he stroked the cat's head. "Probably flattened itself and slipped under the door."

With a doubtful quirk of the lips, Hermann looked at the door. True, there was a gap between the bottom of the door and the floor, but no way could an animal the size of this cat fit under there. "I think this animal fitting through that space violates the laws of nature."

"It absolutely can fit. You just don't know very much about cats."

There was truth to that; Hermann only knew of the cats kept in the mills and storage areas to keep the vermin out. He'd never had one of the animals approach him for a head rub, let alone curl up in his lap. "Perhaps not, but you're suggesting cats are some kind of magical creature."

"I've been studying. _Life_ is magical. I don't think we'll ever understand everything around us, even if we lived forever. This little cat, or the giant dragon that lives in the mountain, it's-"

"Excuse me. What giant dragon? What mountain? _This_ mountain? A giant dragon could break through the wall at any moment?"

Newt laughed. "No! If that dragon decided to bust out, it would destroy the entire castle. It's the biggest I've ever s--heard of." With a grin, noting Hermann's obvious panic, Newt waved his hand. "There's an opening on the opposite side that I guess it would use if it wanted to leave, but dragons live a long time. Way longer than people, and I think this one is so old, it just doesn't even bother anymore."

"Doesn't bother? I 'don't bother' to comb my hair. How does a beast of the size that you claim not bother to eat? And what if it-"

"Stop stop stop. Hermann, you're thinking of them like people. If you're tired, you might sleep for half a day. If a dragon's tired, it might sleep for years. Big ones like it, they're less like animals and more like forces of nature." Newt's hand that had been petting the cat trailed off the animal and lightly over Hermann's leg. "I'd really like to teach you more about them, if you're willing."

The only thing Hermann could focus on was Newt's hand on his leg.

But Newt mistook the silence for something else, and spoke hastily. "I don't mean, like, outside. Not going to show you wild dragons or anything! I can tell almost everything about the features dragons have in common with those two little guys. Back when you're on your feet. Down in the stables, where you can stand well back. In case they get rambunctious, which they do sometimes, but they're pretty cute because they just start b-"

"That's fine, Newt." It wasn't really fine, and Hermann hadn't meant to say that, but now the words were out. He couldn't take them back, not with that look of joy on Newt's face. But knowledge was power, and it wouldn't hurt at all to learn about dragons from someone knowledgeable (instead of just reading it from a book). And if it would mean being able to leave this room, Hermann would do almost anything, even meet a dragon. A small one. Or maybe two.

"Newt, help me." Hermann shooed the cat from his lap, and pulled back the blanket.

"Uh."

Oh yes, he'd forgotten his state of undress beneath. It didn't matter anyway, as he'd need help at this point to get any clothing on, even just a robe. "The door's closed." This was the hardest thing, just starting, because his right leg was the one he had to move. Sitting up was easier now, no pain in his hip at all, but the idea of moving his leg that much…

"Are you…? Should you be doing this?" Newt asked, now looking humorously alarmed with his hands out like he might stop Hermann.

"The worst that can happen is I experience pain, and it won't be anything near what I've felt before. And… I'm ready. I need to do this before I go insane." He took a deep breath and clutched the egde of the bed. Slowly, almost stupidly slowly, Hermann pivoted, his leg already shaking as he tried to keep it extended instead of just resting flat. It felt weak more than anything, even when he had it pointing straight out over the floor, but standing would be the test.

There was no reason (and it probably wasn't advisable) to put weight on it; all he had to do was get his left foot underneath him.

The floor was cold. The whole room was cold, and it would have been so much nicer to get back under the blankets. Nicer, but ultimately unproductive. Hermann looked at Newt. "Will you get me dessert if I do this?"

"I think I should get it for you if you _don't_ do it."

That was enough. Why didn't make any sense, but it was enough. Hermann braced himself, then pushed himself up, gingerly allowing his right leg to bend as he did so. "Newt, some assistance? Just stand here, please." When he was in range, Hermann took hold of his arm, using it to stand the rest of the way.

It wasn't bad. Certainly better than he'd been expecting, and using Newt to lean on, not having to worry about his balance and accidentally putting weight on his other leg, it was good.

"Hermann?"

"It's fine," he said, followed by a sigh of relief. His leg didn't feel strong, didn't feel good exactly, but it did feel fine.

"Do you want a robe or something?"

"I think I need to speak to the physician first. What good is standing in one place, no matter how strong my leg is?" Hermann lowered himself back to the bed, almost exactly in reverse of how he'd stood. "Once I speak with him, I may have need of some actual clothing." With new confidence, Hermann easily rearranged himself in bed, then covered himself back up. "Now, can I make a request for dessert?"

***

"We can make an exception, you know, if the veil's in the way."

"I told you, it's fine. This isn't the first time I've used these things."

Maybe Newt was hovering a little too strongly, but Hermann had fallen once, and there would not be a repeat of that incident. Even if it meant he was at Hermann's side for a majority of the day, much to the man's annoyance.

"Your majesty, your concern is unneeded, really."

"I was unconcerned before and look at you. Until you are on two steady feet, you're just going to have to put up with me." Honestly, Newt had never seen anyone use the contraptions, not like these. With them, and very used to using them, Hermann was faster than he. Instead of continued voicing of his worry, which was only putting Hermann into a sour mood (and that was something nobody liked to deal with), Newt decided on something more intellectual. "So where did you get the idea for those?"

"When the doctor handed me what amounted to a conveniently shaped stick before, leaving me still essentially confined to bed, I decided to make my own." He paused to wait for Newt to catch up. "My siblings brought me the things I needed, and since I had little but time and solitude on my hands, I made these. Something like these. They were crude at the start."

Newt grinned. "You and some free time is a dangerous combination." The more he got to know Hermann, the more Newt understood just why his father was so afraid of him. His loss, Newt's gain. "Can you make more of these? Or maybe teach someone else to?"

"I suppose. No one else has ever expressed the desire to learn. No one ever thought they were of any use."

"But you-"

Hermann gave him a _hard_ look. "I was never of any use."

Careful not to disrupt Hermann's balance, Newt put his hand on his shoulder. "Hey, that is not true. You were useful. They just didn't know what to do with everything you could do."

"And you'll put me to good use, I suppose. Like a well-bred plow mule."

"Come on, Hermann. You don't want to tutor Chuck and Mako, then fine. You don't have to. You want to stay shut up in the library and never leave, then you can. I was just…" Newt let his hand fall away, let Hermann walk away if he wanted. "I was just trying to help you. So you could maybe be happy. I'll just stop talking now."

That was something he'd said many times in his life. Newt always meant it. Following through was less consistent. "Please, just, if you ever need something, tell me."

Hermann glared at him.

"I don't know what else to do."

"Please return to leaving me alone. It was working well before."

Feeling utterly defeated, Newt stepped away. How had wanting to do something for the people he'd seen that also had trouble with their legs and walking turned into this? "Is it because I didn't get you dessert?"

Once more, Hermann glared at him, but that, surprisingly, softened. "No. It's… I believe the doctor has given me a different mixture for pain, and it's having a strange effect on my mood. I feel very angry."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm simply angry, and I…" He looked down, and appeared vaguely ashamed. "I don't like feeling this way. I'm not angry at you, or anyone else. I'm just angry."

Newt took another step back anyway. "Oh, okay. Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"I would prefer it, if only so I don't take it out on you. I thought earlier it was my frustration at being stuck in that room for so long, but I see it is most definitely not that."

The one good thing that came from the entire experience, besides those little things that would live only in Newt's memory, was that Hermann didn't actually hate him for such a tiny thing (of which Newt still wasn't sure what that was). "You know, Hermann, I don't mind it if you're mad at me," he said and shrugged. "That way I know it's you, how you really feel. I know you don't want to hear it, but I want you to be yourself, and not… I don't want you to be a plow mule. I want you to be… my husband."

 

"It's different for everyone. With such personalization required, most would consider this too much effort to make the general population. I have, of course, made them only for myself, but I can demonstrate the general process. With proper measurements, they can be made for anyone, even a child."

Newt stood at the rear of the room and did his best not to smile. More than once Hermann had caught him smiling, and rewarded the gesture with a scowl, so smiling was off the table. Seeing Hermann lecture, with his little diagrams, the group of men listening closely, it made pride swell in Newt.

Hermann was useful in so many ways, probably more than he would ever realize or admit, but had been made to feel like having skills that could be put to use was about being used rather than finding purpose and satisfaction in life. Some people were plow mules, and even they could find satisfaction in that work. All they had to do was find that one thing that truly fulfilled Hermann and served a larger purpose.

As often as Hermann shut himself away, Newt could see it in him how much he wanted that larger purpose, to be more than standing in the back, known only because of his attachment to someone else. Or maybe known for something more significant than his near-disastrous encounter with a dragon. He'd gotten to know Hermann well enough to believe that what he'd done wasn't even seen as an accomplishment in a kingdom of dragon slayers, that it had earned him nothing from his father.

It was why Newt kept pushing him to do things as much as Hermann seemed to, maybe not dislike, but only grudgingly accept the tasks.

Respect. It was all about respect, because Newt didn't think hermann respected himself enough. Maybe he'd never been given a reason to. Maybe? Very likely.

Skill. Intellect. Purpose. All Newt wanted was for Hermann to see how much worth he had, not for other people, but for himself.

Another scowl, and Newt realized he'd been smiling stupidly again.

The little gathering went well, to the point that even Hermann looked a little pleased. "I bet this is going to end up helping a lot of people."

"Perhaps, but it's rather limited in its application, isn't it? Only injured people get any use of them."

Newt quirked an eyebrow at him. "Only injured people? So injured people aren't worthy of-"

"You know what I mean!" Hermann snapped, and actually swung at him.

"Either way," Newt said, skipping out of the way, "I think it's worthwhile. To help people when they need it, and in a way they didn't even know was possible. Don't you think that''s worth doing."

Hermann took a long time to answer, but Newt didn't believe it had anything to do with disagreement.

"I do, but what if they don't work? What if you give them to someone, and they get further injured? That would be my fault, and I can't-"

"Hermann, the fact that you tried at all is more than anyone would expect. You can't blame yourself for helping someone in need." Newt carefully swept the veil aside so he could rest his hand on Hermann's shoulder. "I'm glad, you know. I mean, I want you to step into this role. I'm king, but I say you have a place here, you have a hand in things."

"Why? Why would you say that?"

"Because you're smart enough to do this without me, but since you can't get rid of me so easily, you'll just have to manage working with me. How's that sound?" To Newt, it sounded pretty neat, but also a little terrifying. He'd never worked with anyone like that, not even his uncles.

"It sounds… possible."

Possible was progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those warnings that come with prescription medication, 'if you experience abnormal behavior', Hermann's just having a bad reaction to the pain reliving draught he was given (I know more than one person who has a similar reaction to vicodin).
> 
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com  
> lixyewup@twitter


	15. Chapter 15

"Good morning, your majesty."

"Good morning, kids."

"Good morning, your highness."

"Mako, Chuck. Good morning. I hope your lessons are going well."

Both children instantly brightened. "Dad says we might get to fly next week!"

Even Mako couldn't help but to smile brightly at the prospect as she nodded.

"Flying so soon? I don't think I started flying until I was a couple years older than you," Newt said as he ruffled Chuck's hair. "You two go on now. We're here on business."

Without a question, the two bowed, then left the stables.

"That's the future walking out of here. Might even one day be a king or queen there, though Chuck needs a lot of work before that happens though. As I'm sure you've noticed, he's more of a doer than a thinker."

Hermann made a quiet noise of agreement, then added, "He's performed well under pressure though. His results under time constrictions are consistent with those when he has ample time to finish."

"And Mako?"

"Quick and efficient. She's always finished with plenty of time to spare. Are we going to discuss the children for the rest of the morning?"

"So grouchy. Frowning like that will accentuate those lines around your mouth, you know that?" Newt brushed his thumb over one of those lines. "You should smile a little more."

"I'll smile when I have something to smile at. And do not imply that your mere presence is something to smile at." He didn't smile, but the frown lessened.

That was enough for Newt. "Fiiiine. So, should we see our little friends?"

Taking a deep breath, Hermann nodded. His knuckles were white where he gripped the head of his cane, but he didn't step back an inch as the two small dragons came bounding out of the enclosure.

***

With his leg and hip still bothering him, Hermann couldn't sit at the library like he had before. The chairs were just not comfortable enough; much longer than ten minutes on the hard wood sent shooting pain up and down his side. Naturally Newt had offered to set him up a special chair that was more comfortable for him, but that felt like it would have been very odd in a place where anyone could see him.

It was hard enough earning respect from people without needing special favors from the king. So yes, he had a chair that was custom made for him, but he sat with his journal in the antechamber alone.

Not a thing had been written down since his afternoon spent learning about dragons except for just one thing on his page of Newt observations.

_Enthusiastic_.

Hermann was sure if he sat and thought about it, other things would come to mind, but dwelling on the man like that was not productive. It served no purpose other than to keep him distracted and at the extreme, frustrated.

Would there ever be a time he could actually admit it? It felt impossible, a thing so far away he might as well wish for wings to fly. It shouldn't be so difficult, if it was what he truly wanted, so it simply must have meant it _wasn't_ what he wanted. Hermann was just lonely and yearned for something more.

But it was a little late for that, wasn't it? Now that he was free from his father's stifling presence, free to be himself, he was officially and visibly unavailable.

Hermann stopped staring out the window. This was something he'd meant to do before he'd gotten hurt, and it was only now back in mind.

***

She was supposed to share with the others. Bastien and Dietrich were both interested enough, but at the same time, Hermann had said much to keep their interest. Typical men. Mother dabbed her eyes and smiled softly. Father never needed to know.

It worried Karla. Where everyone else read the words, felt the sentiment they wanted to be conveyed, she saw something else. Something deeper. Something more worrying.

_I am fine. The king is kindly._

Fine. Kindly. They screamed of either self-delusion or a poor attempt to convince her he was safe. Both ideas terrified her, that her younger brother was being… subjected to some kind of torture. Assuming this was a letter from Hermann to even begin with. There was a possibility it was written by a forgery artist to make them believe her brother was still alive.

But why would they bother? As if the rumors hadn't been all through the castle that Father had done this specifically to get rid of Hermann.

Something clenched in Karla's chest painfully.

Hermann was _not_ fine. The King of the Dragons was _not_ kindly. She would bring him home.

 

She told them, in a terse letter, she was coming as a diplomatic representative of her kingdom. She told her father nothing at all.

And she didn't wait for a reply.

Everyone thought she was just the daughter, the child that didn't have a place in her father's court, a poor girl with sad eyes who didn't speak. That might have been true at home, where she had three brothers that took a place of higher prestige than herself, but away from her family, Karla knew she was fierce.

Even to her mother's disappointment, she learned to fight, to defend herself; she dressed for the situation in trousers, leaving her dresses in her wardrobe; she was an accomplished rider, knowing the carriage would be too slow; and she wasn't stupid. This was not a safe thing she was doing, but it was necessary.

Each night she and her tiny contingent of guardsmen stopped, and they were not at the Dragon King's castle, increased her anxiety. Hopefully by letting them know she was coming, assuming her brother was still alive, it would force them to present him to her healthy. If he was not healthy, or not alive at all, maybe her father was too afraid to fight, but Karla would wage war on the monster that hurt her brother.

Who would ever want to hurt Hermann? Yes, he could sometimes be surly and anti-social, but all he'd ever wanted was to be left to himself, to pursue his own interests. He'd never hurt anyone, and that dragon… That hadn't been his fault, so why…?

Karla spurred her horse faster, blaming the wind in her eyes for the tears that stained her face.

 

They rode without colors, not completely incognito, but it wasn't necessary to draw any more attention to themselves as they rode through enemy territory. This was the first time Karla had been here; not outside home, but up here to the north. Everyone knew, on both sides of the border (a clearly demarcated line of river bank and fencing that extended a distance that wasn't sane to upkeep) that their kingdoms were as close to mortal enemies as such things existed.

That was why, when the castle finally came into view, rising high enough that they could see it over the treetops of the forest, Karla was relieved. Relieved and terrified at the same time, with her breath coming shallowly as they approached the gatehouse.

The pair of guards there seemed unconcerned by their arrival, and when she announced her identity, they opened the gates without question. That was slightly positive, that they were expecting her. Hermann would be waiting then, she had to believe it.

The ride to the front gates was more of a charge than anything, with Karla prepared to attack the closed gates if it didn't open before--

The gates opened, drawing Karla almost to a halt, but while she'd been expecting a group of guards, there were only a few guards and a group of stablehands that outnumbered them. But no Hermann. Through every doorway, she'd be looking for him until he was finally in her view and she could speak to him. And until him she'd walk with a purpose no person alone could stop; she didn't even allow herself time to observe her surroundings (which was a mistake, but she just _couldn't_ ).

It was something of a surprise when the guards led her entire group into the throne room, as she often forgot her perceived importance, and there was an actual formal reception awaiting her. The embarrassment of showing up dirty and bedraggled started to creep up on her until her eyes locked on Hermann.

Nothing else in the moment mattered. Without consideration for anything else, including her own safety, she rushed forward, shoved one guard violently aside when he tried to step in front of her, and nearly tackled her brother into the outrageous pile of gold he was standing in front of. "We need to talk," she whispered to him while she had him locked in a bone-crushing hug.

Hermann sputtered as he returned the hug awkwardly with one arm.

She drew back as suddenly as she had embraced him, and looked him over. With her mouth set in a thin line, her eyes narrow, Karla held her brother's face in her hands. "These clothes don't suit you."

"You're making a scene," he answered quietly, but didn't try to pull away from her.

"Damn well better believe it. Do you know how worried I was when your letter arrived?"

"The letter where I said I was fine?"

Karla snorted, then squeezed his face. "As if I'd believe that. Everyone knows what the people here are like."

Frowning, Hermann shoved her hands away. "I assure you, they do not. Father has done nothing but lie to all of us. The king is-"

"Kindly, so you say, and yet he very willingly took a vulnerable young man to his bed."

"I'm not a child. He agreed to Father's terms; he didn't request me, but he accepted me."

"Oh no," Karla said softly, resting her hand on Hermann's cheek. "What have they done to you? That you're sympathizing with them now. Hermann, I'm just… I'm so worried about you."

Hermann took hold of her hand. "There's a feast, in honor of your visit. Does that sound like the savages Father is so afraid of?"

"Your highness?"

Hermann looked away, off to Karla's left at the other men standing on the same platform.

But Karla didn't look so she could gauge every single expression on her brother's face as this exchange took place. The king hadn't spoken yet (assuming he was the short guy in the crown), and was only eyeing her curiously. Rage started building once more. Eyeing her, determining how she'd fit into his harem, no doubt.

"Forgive me," Hermann said to them all. "My sister has been concerned for my health."

"Straight to the feast then!" the small king declared.

 

"You're snorting like a bull," Hermann whispered as they walked to the dining hall.

"And you're walking with a cane and a bad limp. Did another dragon try to eat you? Did they try to _feed_ you to a dragon?"

"You're just being ridiculous. I fell down the stairs. It was slippery. I'm fine now, or will be once my leg is fully healed."

One of the men Hermann introduced as the king's advisors (and uncles, how typical) leaned over across the table to address her. He smiled, but it was as steely as the glint in his eyes. "Don't worry. Your boy's well enough for the king to take him to bed every night."

For a long, dangerous moment, Karla clutched her knife and considered stabbing the man in the neck with it, and then doing the same to the king.

Hermann grabbed her arm hard enough to hurt. "Do _not_. He says it only to incite you."

"It's working. That they treat you like a piece of meat, I simply can't-"

"Will you listen to me, for once? Listen to your useless younger brother. They do not treat me like a piece of meat. The king does not take me to bed every night. He doesn't at all. He respected my wish to-to do nothing. He's not a cruel man. I don't expect you become his friend, but could you trust me?"

If there was one person in the family to trust, it was Hermann, but he'd never been in this kind of situation. It was impossible to say how he'd been influenced, that even if they were treating him badly, he might not care simply to be away from their father.

"You should see my magic. I would have never discovered it at home. It's miraculous." He put his hand over hers, the knife still in her hand. "Please, Karla. We can have dinner privately, no one listening, no one interrupting. Just believe me."

As little as she wanted to, she trusted him anyway. She didn't believe him, but she trusted him, and the only way to solve this would be to hear him out.

***

Hermann watched his sister closely. Her body language worried him; if she were surprised, she might end up stabbing somebody. The entire time, her hand rested on her knife, and it wasn't a casual pose. But he had a trick that might calm her somewhat. "This is the library. I spend much of my time here."

Did he look like that when he first walked into this space? When he saw the books, more in one place than he'd ever seen before?  He hoped she felt the same way he had on that day.

"Your highness, what can I do for you today?"

"Nothing, Master Choi. I'm giving my sister a tour. She is _not_ available."

Tendo, who had been getting to his feet, slumped back down. "I wouldn't think of it, your highness."

"Of course you wouldn't. Don't be fooled, Karla. He is a notorious thief of hearts, all the while he has a a very nice young lady that-"

"Whoa, hold on, brother! There's nothing wrong with being nice to a lady. It doesn't mean I'm looking for an invitation to her bed, or extending one to mine."

It wasn't precisely a lie, and Hermann wasn't upset or holding anything against the man. Somehow, though, it felt important to have these conversations, like proof of his life here. He'd not had a friend before to talk to like this, or to have to defend his sister from. He managed a small smile, to have it returned by Tendo with a shake of his head.

 

Karla was properly amazed, a fact that roused pride in him for no real reason. The library was not his, had nothing of his in it, but it was a space he was comfortable in. It was a space that let him be a little of who he was. "Do you want to see one?" he blurted out suddenly as they walked away from the pleasing confines of the library.

"See what?"

"A dragon." Why was he offering this? As if he were suddenly some kind of seasoned rider. As if he had done more than touch a small dragon that acted more like a dog than anything. The words to defend and explain himself were on his lips, but his older sister was as surprising to him as he probably was to her.

"Is it safe? If it's not safe, I don't want anything to do with them."

"I wouldn't offer if it weren't. The king has taught me some things about them, and I've read what there is in the library. They're not mindless animals." Her answer was enough to start him on the path to the stables. "I can't consider myself an expert, but there is more than we can understand to them as a species."

Karla grabbed his hand and forced him to face her. "We're alone now, Hermann. Please tell me the truth. I couldn't bear it if you were hurt because of this, if they were mistreating you because of what Father's done."

"No one is mistreating me. I'm starting to think… this is where I belong.Dietrich and Bastien, they're fine there. And either one of them will be better to rule than Father, but right now, this is better." He squeezed her hand. He couldn't be mad at her, not when the concern was just there, on the surface and so easy to read. The lengths she was willing to go to protect him… "It's better here. You should be here too. Stay. Don't go back."


	16. Chapter 16

"Hermann."

He knew immediately what she was going to say. Karla had their mother's eyes, the ones that got wide for a brief moment before they narrowed in apology.  Any sort of hope for her, that she would stay and live a better life, was dashed.

"I can't. You know it's just not possible. The kind of strife it would cause between the two kingdoms… Father would think I'd been kidnapped, and whether he truly cared I was gone or not, he would use it to stoke the flames of war."

At that Hermann snorted. "Karla, Father could never win a war. He would never come close to killing the king."

"And that's why I can't stay, do you see? Pointless loss of lives. I won't sacrifice those people for my own comfort." She looked down suddenly and frowned. "I suppose I might have for your sake, but not my own." When she looked back up, there were tears welling in her eyes. "I can't. You know he won't let me go."

"I'll find someone. I'll ask Newt to find someone who will appreciate you, who wants something more than a decoration."

"Newt?"

Hermann blushed and pinched his lips together. "The king," he mumbled. When he looked back at his sister, she was smiling faintly.

"So it's true," she said. Without elaboration, Karla hooked her arm through his. "So show me these dragons you claim are so safe."

The two little ones, when they arrived at the stables, approached Hermann immediately, if slightly cautiously. Hermann pulled over a stepstool and sat on it. This seemed to encourage the dragons, who came closer. Once his cane was set aside and his hands were out, the dragons eagerly ducked their heads into his touch. "He called me the Prince of the Dragons. I've never truly been the prince of anything."

The gold dragonling laid its head across his leg and closed its eyes.

"Hermann," Karla said as she slowly reached out to touch the smooth, scaled head, "now you're holding yourself back. I've seen you be held back since you were ten. Why are you still doing it?"

It was an answer slow to come, because only people in a similar position could truly understand. "He is the king. How can I believe anything he says? A man in such a position of power doesn't need to be sincere in anything he does. I want to." Petting the dragon actually lowered his anxiety at talking about the situation. "But he can order me to do anything, and I can't refuse. How do I…? How do I let myself be open, and then he can just take advantage? I'm such a child. I just don't want to be hurt."

Karla's arm came around him, and she leaned heavily against his side. "I can't tell you that, Hermann. You either trust that he won't, which it sounds like you don't, or you just take that step and hope for the best."

"All I want is to be happy for once." The crimson dragon in front of him dropped to the ground and rolled up on Hermann's feet. "I didn't think that would be possible here, but…"

"You want it to be."

"I want it to be. And I'm attracted to him."

Still leaning against him, Karla reached down and touched the dragon, who didn't seem to mind in any way. "Then trust yourself. And if something goes wrong, send me a letter. I'll be here before you even believe I've read it, and I'll stick a fork through his windpipe."

"You're so extreme. That is bad diplomacy."

"Appropriate response. And now that you've convinced me that not all dragons are ferocious monsters that want to kill us all and use our bones to pick their teeth…" Karla actually scratched one under the chin and received a pleased squawk in return. "Tell me all about your magic."

 

With Karla asking so many questions, with the numbers laid out in front of him, and together they started to arrange themselves into something that made sense.

"Should I stop talking?" she asked when Hermann lowered his head and began writing quickly.

"No, it's fine. Something is… taking shape." What exactly he couldn't tell yet, but from the short and simple equations, it was probably something uneventful.

She leaned over his shoulder and stared at his work. "I don't understand."

"I don't either. Something you said, or something I thought maybe, and numbers came to me. I keep going until they work out, and then I see… things." Hermann shrugged, glanced up at his sister, and felt sudden surge of magic. Something about what he'd said, perhaps her curiosity, had changed things.

Or maybe not changed exactly. Expanded his initial brief equations into something more elaborate. His sister had her own magic, something they had whispered to each other under the cover of night, wondered about. What it was, if they'd ever get to use it, if they'd ever be discovered by their father…

Pausing, letting his hand relax and quill droop, Hermann looked again at his sister. "Can you do magic? Right now."

"Maybe. It won't be anything big."

"The best you can, please. I want to test something." His magic was stronger, the strongest of the family (had to be, since no one but Karla ever expressed interest or ability), but he needed that external spark. It wasn't the power of it, but the simple expenditure. They'd never truly _used_ their magic, never having a chance to use it openly. Hermann was sure his had utility, but Karla's was much more difficult to pin down. It was nearly impossible to practice without a willing target. "You won't kill anything, will you?"

Karla rolled her eyes. "That was once, and it was the third time I'd tried. I won't kill anything, not even a mouse."

"Please don't make this a second time." Hermann tapped his nails on the underside of the table a few times and waited. A second time. He was about to do it a third time when his small bed-warming friend looked through the doorway. "When I was recovering from my fall, this one wouldn't leave me alone."

The small cat wandered over to Hermann and rubbed against his leg, purring audibly.

"I killed a dragon. Don't make me responsible for the death of this cat as well." He lifted the cat into his lap, situated so he could still write with it there. His sister's magic had always been an invisible thing, something he didn't understand (and wasn't sure she really understood either), but when she used it on the cat, he could tell.

It wasn't in the reaction of the cat at all, even though the relaxed creature was suddenly sitting like it was carved of wood, but that those numbers in front of him bloomed like flowers in the spring. "That's enough," he said, and started writing.

In the corner of Hermann's awareness, he felt the cat relax once more in his lap. After a moment, it started purring once more.

***

There were three pages covered with numbers, and a line that crossed all three with marks ticked at random intervals along it. "What does it mean?" It was something, certainly, because she'd seen her brother nearly glowing while he'd been writing it all.

"The future. Your future."

"Come on, Hermann, don't tease me. This is…"

"It's the future. Not far," he said, looking a little smug as he sat across the table from her and pet the cat in his lap, "but there it is."

"Tell me what it means then, as I assume that's the other part of your magic. Or it really doesn't do anyone much good." She leaned heavily on his shoulder, careful to avoid all the silly froofery her brother was wearing, and that extremely pointy crown. It made their father's heavy gold crown look subdued in comparison. "How do you function in all this extra clothing? Isn't it warm?"

"It's cooler here. The castle is built into the mountain. I'm surprised you haven't noticed."

She smirked even though he wasn't looking. "I'm wearing armor under my robe."

"Karla, that is the most ridiculous thing. Honestly. Do you want to know what this says or not?"

"I do. Don't be such a grump."

The moment Hermann put his hand on the first page, fingers resting along the line he'd drawn. Karla could feel the familiar hum, like a deep vibration, what his magic felt like. Suddenly, the feeling crawling down her arms and enveloping her head, she pulled his hand off the page. "Nevermind. I don't want to know. It's strong, your magic, and I-I'm not comfortable." She withdrew, took a step away. "It's very strong."

In one smooth motion, he scooped the cat up and stood to face her. "You could be too, if you stayed."

"I told you I can't do that, even though I'd like to." They'd been vaguely distant as adults, but she certainly hadn't forgotten how close they'd been when they were younger, when they were the only ones that could even come close to relating. Home was so lonely without even the memory of a friend, but there was so much more at stake than selfish desires could ever make up for. "Please don't ask again. Don't make me doubt myself further." And now she was going to start crying. "Just say I can visit, even if I have to sneak away without telling Father. Say… say there'll be a place for me if ever…"

There might come a day, she wasn't a fool. A day when her limits were reached. Loyalty and patience were not infinite commodities, not things that just replenished if there were enough time between abuses. No, one day her father would finally take away her choices completely, and she'd be forced to leave.

It was a scenario she often considered, what she'd say, if she could hold back tears when he hit her, because she knew he would. And then the best way to escape before he could do anything about it. Before she hadn't a clue where she'd go, other than perhaps across the ocean, where their tiny kingdom meant nothing and her father held no power, no sway. But if she could travel in secrecy, keep her identity hidden, perhaps she could end up here without causing too much trouble before moving further away. "Please, Hermann. Tell me your Dragon King would find mercy in his heart for me."

The cat was caught between them as Hermann hugged her, squirming futilely.

"Of course. There will never be any doubt."

***

The future wasn't immutable. Since Karla had changed what he'd seen by demonstrating her magic in such an unimportant way, Hermann had to wonder what good this magic was. If he had to do page after page of equations and drawings every day to keep up on the most insignificant happenings, how could he keep abreast of truly important things on the unforeseen horizon?

With a scowl, he stared at the pages he'd done for Karla. Since the moment she'd said she didn't want to know, he'd not gone back to them. The thought that she'd been frightened of his magic, afraid of its power, it had soured him on the whole thing. She didn't understand, so of course she was frightened, but why couldn't she trust him?

It was as if she didn't see him as an adult, not as someone who'd shipped off and forced to fend for himself now. She'd be fine, that was what he had to trust in his magic. There was change coming, for her at home, but change was always coming. What the change was, it didn't say in her future, only that it was there and it was fine.

"You look worried."

Hermann glanced over at Newt. "My sister. She doesn't trust me, but she doesn't…" Trust herself?

_Then trust yourself._

How could he expect her to trust him when he didn't trust himself? But there was a difference between giving himself up, leaving himself open and in a vulnerable position, and knowing… No, not in this case, there was no difference. There was no way he could say that he was safe, and this was a safe place, if he was worried about being vulnerable.

No wonder Karla always looked at him like that. No wonder she didn't believe him.

"I said some foolish things to my sister, and didn't even realize how backwards I sounded until now. And she's gone." Very carefully, he folded up the pages and tucked them away. "She wouldn't trust me when I told her I was fine, but then I told her I'm…" Hermann swallowed thickly, then looked at Newt.

The concern on the king's young face was almost overwhelming.

"I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what? Did someone do something to you? Say something? Was it my uncle again? I _told_ him-"

"No, none of those things. I'm afraid that…" Hermann huffed in frustration. "You must know! You're the king! The moment I allow a single thing, you can then simply order me to do whatever you please." It sounded silly to say aloud, but it was the lingering dread that wouldn't leave him.

That was certainly something his father would have done.

"Wait, so you think if you let yourself do the things you were denied at home, whatever that might be, I'll start parading you around in just the crown and a collar? I don't care how other kingdoms run their business, with their people, in the council room, in their bedrooms. This is mine, and I know we got started out in the wrong ways, but I don't want it to be like that." Newt moved a book from the corner of the desk so he could sit on it, and ended up looking much older than his true age in the soft lamplight with his arms crossed. "This might get your hackles up a little, but it's just kind of how I am. You're mine, Hermann. I don't share, and I don't give up on things that are valuable to me."

It did offend him, that he was a possession to Newt, but things were starting to become clear the more he saw of Newt: dragon magic was different than other magic. It wasn't just a force to be manipulated; it shaped the user. Newt was a product of this magic as much as anything. "When I die, will you add my bones to your hoard?"

"No," Newt answered, taking no offense at the question, "but I will put your spectacles there. Or maybe your little memento from home."

Hermann blushed and looked away. "A child's toy."

"It's important to you. It's important to me. But." Standing, starting to move to the other side of the room, Newt smiled at him. "All that doesn't change anything. We'll just keep things the way they are, right?"

Nodding faintly, Hermann remained otherwise still until Newt was gone from the room.

His worry still hadn't really been addressed, but he had a better understanding about Newt's thinking, and that was more comfort than he would have predicted.


	18. Chapter 18

It was an art, of course. There was as much finesse and skill in it as there was in the crafting of the knife on his belt. The experiment with Karla, though it had raised doubts at the time, also prompted him to do more than wistfully plot out the lines that made up his own mundane future.

His free time spent in the library is accomplishing little, as the numbers told him nothing. They were too small, too simple, and Hermann didn't know how to force them to tell him more. He had no desire to wait, not like before when he had no idea just what this magic would do. No, there had to be a way to steer what he was seeing with it.

In frustration, Hermann closed his journal, not even waiting for the ink to dry on the few feeble equations he'd written.

Breakfast. It was what he would have for breakfast. In what world would that do him any good?

"You're looking a little put out, your highness."

Hermann nodded as he put his things away. "The learning curve to this magic is steeper than I first thought it might be."

"Nothing powerful comes quick or easy. We've spent more years than I've been alive building this library, from nothing except a collection of rumors, and a single page of history." Choi looked around, a look of fondness on his face. "I've been in this seat for seven years, and every year I find something new when I thought I'd discovered everything about it."

Seven years, and Hermann had known of his own power for less than four months. "But I feel that if I can only steer it, truly wield it, I'll see so much more. Nothing I do turns the numbers in the direction I want them to go though."

Choi shrugged. "Maybe it doesn't work that way. Maybe they come to you when there's something to see. Something you _need_ to see."

That would actually be a relief, to not worry that if he didn't work at it every day he would miss something important. "Thank you for your point of view, Master Choi. Ever since my sister returned home, I've been trying to replicate the results I had with her, but I get nothing. If my magic is only good to know what I'll have for breakfast the next day, why do I even have it?"

"Considering how many people don't know any magic at all, you should feel lucky you have any at all, even if it's not as useful as you'd like it to be."

Shaking his head, Hermann frowned at the librarian. "Magic was just one more thing to make me feel like an outcast at home. I would have preferred to live without it, even before this useless power made itself known."

But Choi was undaunted by his reaction, and smiled. "You can't give up on it, brother. You give up on it now, you'll regret it for the rest of your life, always wondering what it could have come to. Even if your magic lets you see the future, there are always unseen possibilities."

The man was wiser than he had any right to be. "Thank you. I hadn't intended to give up on it, but you're right nevertheless."

 

Hermann stopped worrying about what his magic might show him. It was yet another distraction that worried him needlessly. Not while he had other things that were far more immediate to deal with.

"So what's for breakfast tomorrow?"

And here was his top concern. "I've decided," Hermann replied with an imperious tone that made him feel better even if it didn't bother Newt in the least, "to set that aside. The magic presented itself when something important was ahead, but aside from that, I've learned nothing of importance."

Newt seemed strangely hesitant after that, his brows furrowing. "Nothing?'

"I thought you teasing me about breakfast would be proof."

"Well, yes, but like you said, that's just teasing. I mean, nothing important, like anything about… us?"

As much as he both liked the idea and was afraid of it, Hermann shook his head. "Truly, nothing."

"Oh." He looked truly disappointed in the fact, and sighed. "Well, you know, if you ever get something important…"

"I will, Newt." Now whether "important" was something to do with life or death, or otherwise life-changing, or if it was simply to do with them, Hermann wasn't sure. It was very likely, in his mind, he'd keep in future between them to himself.

 

Dragons aged quickly, but grew slowly. Hermann hadn't been around them long enough to really see that, especially since the two siblings continued to fawn over him. But they remained respectful of his boundaries and physical limitations (he'd put the cane away, but still walked with a slight limp).

"They really like you."

They adored Newt, and Hermann felt maybe a little jealous of that. The only thing that liked Hermann that much was a cat, and cats were less agreeable than dragons. "It had an egg," he said abruptly, as they remained in the back of the stables, out of sight of the riders-in-training.

"What?"

"It had an egg. That's why it was so aggressive. And I just… I didn't know until after. I felt… I felt like…" He couldn't look at Newt. "I did something horrible. I'm sorry, I know you said we weren't going to talk about it, but I just wonder sometimes, when they look at me, if they know what I've done."

"Hermann."

Newt was suddenly warm beside him, arm around his shoulders, and voice impossibly gentle. "I know what I said, but it's different now. Do you want to talk about it? I won't judge you; I get it, you did what you had to. And hey, bad things happen. That's nature."

"I want to know what they think. I wish I could speak to them. They deserve to know that I'm not the Prince of Dragons. I don't deserve their…" He gestured to the two, watching him closely in anticipation. "I don't deserve anything."

***

The dragons blinked, each with their faintly luminescent golden eyes, and looked back and forth between Newt and Hermann.

_"He wants you to know this."_ Newt waited for some reply, but it seemed they were waiting for more from him. _"He wants to know what you think of him, for doing this."_

_He won't hurt us. He won't hurt you. That's what matters._

They were young. They had such a simple outlook on the world. And as intelligent as dragons could be, they didn't really get human society or the many laws therein. No, these two simply understood that nature, including humans and dragons, was often cruel. If it were not, they might be with their kind instead of living in the castle.

But then they wouldn't be near the Dragon King.

_"How do you not care, and I can't let it go?"_

_He's nice. You worry about him. We worry about him._

There was a thing with riders, where eventually the rider would find that dragon that they bonded with more strongly than any other. This was only seen with riders; not even dragon magic provided that. This was the first time Newt had seen dragons take any interest in someone that was not a rider, even if it was directly because of him. _"You've been a big help. He was very afraid before, and now he visits you by his own choice."_

The reaction made Newt smile as the two hopped at his feet, then turned their attention to Hermann. He could hear their babbling, partly to Hermann though they knew he couldn't understand, but mostly to each other. "They don't care, Hermann. I'm sorry I made such a big deal of it when it wasn't your choice."

Hermann stood, running a hand across the wide, flat heads of the two dragonlings. "I need to…" Looking pained as he glanced around, he nodded. "I need to go. I'm sorry."

_He doesn't like us now?_

It might have been easier that way, if Hermann had retained his fear and dislike of dragons. Perhaps the guilt wouldn't be so strong that way. But Newt knew what he was thinking: that egg, maybe they'd left abandoned but more likely destroyed, could have been one of these friendly creatures. It was a shame, and Newt was angry, but not with Hermann.

_"Don't worry. He'll be back. He still likes you. Who wouldn't?"_

The crimson dragon flapped its tiny wings, not yet able to support its weight, and crowed in triumph. The sound was of rusted metal twisting on itself, and received an answering rooster call from somewhere in the distance.

 

Hermann's internal clock still wasn't set properly. He always slept late because he didn't know what time of morning it was without a window to see the sky.

It's a good thing, because more than once Newt has woken up sleeping much closer to him than they'd silently agreed upon. Maybe an arm across a hip, sometimes a leg tangled, once just laying on Hermann's hand while he clutched his arm. It wasn't sexual, he was never awkwardly aroused; it was just the comfort in another person. It was still a new experience, still strange and exciting, and he felt guilty about it when he knew Hermann wanted no part of such a thing.

The six month period of "mourning" was almost up, and then they'd start over with better insight and knowledge of one another. Newt just hoped that Hermann could see there was nothing to be afraid of from him, that he was willing to make this effort.

And that started with not draping himself all over Hermann in the middle of the night. But it still left Newt with a smile as he shut the door quietly behind himself.

***

Chuck responded well to similes and metaphors related to weapons and fighting. Mako understood them just as well, but didn't need them as much as the boy. That was the tactic Hermann went with to facilitate Chuck's slower learning pace, and he was very pleased with the results.

The visual was best when it came to the more complicated maths Hermann had quickly moved them into. The children were beyond simple numbers and basic equations. They were into the things he didn't have names for quite yet, and how numbers made shapes. It was during one of these demonstrations, naming the way the body moved and how to measure it, when pain forced Hermann to silence in mid-sentence.

He clutched his head, the wooden practice knife falling from his fingers, and fell heavily against the table.

"Your highness?"

The worry from the children nattered at him like noisy birds from a distance, but the only thing he could truly concentrate on through the pain was the sudden need to write. "Go, go," he urged, waving the kids away. "I'm fine. Magic…" It didn't matter if they left or stayed and watched, he simply couldn't give them any of his attention, his hand already moving across a page at the same time as he sat back in his chair.

This was stronger than he'd ever experienced, a surge that felt like fire in his guts, an undeniable force. It was something like being swept up in a flood and just giving in, head going under and submitting to a force greater than himself.

***

Newt very nearly kicked the door open in his rush. It was a faint relief to find Hermann, looking exhausted, sitting up and conscious. "What happened? Are you all right?" With his heart still hammering, hands shaking, Newt went to Hermann's side and kneeled. "Mako said-"

"Magic," said in hardly more than a whisper and with some effort. "It was just my magic."

"Just? Just your magic that had you collapse to the floor? Hermann."

"I did no such thing. I leaned heavily on the table."

Newt looked to the doorway, saw Mako and Chuck both there and looking just as worried as Newt himself had felt. With a nod, he dismissed them; Hermann wouldn't want them seeing him this way, and wouldn't give a straight answer until they were alone. "You need some water or something?"

"I'm fine." He neither looked nor sounded fine.

"OK then, so what's wrong? What happened? I _will_ order you to tell me if you make it necessary."

Sighing, sagging further in the chair, Hermann nodded. "We were working through the day's lessons and I felt a surge. An overwhelming, and painful, need to write." Hesitantly he touched the pages in front of him, four of them filled top to bottom in the time it had taken Mako to find him and return to the library. "It's about me."

"Dammit, tell me. This isn't just magic. What did you see?"

"Myself dying."


	19. Chapter 19

"No. I will not have a crowd following me everywhere I go."

Newt was ready to tear his hair out. "You saw your own death, in this castle, within two months, and you think having guards protect you is a crowd? You are insane! I don't care." He shook his head, refusing to even look at Hermann. "I don't care. You will be under protection of guards at all times. End of discussion."

"You would-"

" _Don't even_ try and make me feel bad for trying to protect you. You may have suddenly come to terms with dying, but I haven't. So get used to it. Or not. It won't change."

Hermann regarded him as if he were mud on a boot. "You're very feisty." Immediately he looked away. "Fine. If that's what you're going to do, there's nothing I can do to stop you."

"Good. I'm glad you're finally being sensible."

There was still a blush on Hermann's cheeks when he looked back at Newt. "And for how long will I have to tolerate this?"

"As long as necessary."

"Wonderful."

 

It wasn't something that Newt liked to do, especially since Hermann was so angry because of it, but to sit and do nothing, to not even try, was ridiculous. How Hermann was so prepared to just let his own murder happen when he knew it could be prevented was mind-boggling.

_"It will happen, or it won't."_

Well it wouldn't. End of discussion, not that they were discussing anything. Hermann was as stubborn as any grouchy dragon, though that might have been part of why Newt put up with it so readily. Anyone else giving him that kind of backtalk would have earned, at the least, a very harsh talking to.

But Hermann… The moment he'd seen Hermann, looking so noble and vulnerable, so different from his father just in the way he carried himself, he knew he was in trouble. Yes, he'd screwed things up because what the hell did he know about relationships or really other people even? But he was learning, and making a real effort to learn about Hermann specifically.

It was only because of that time he'd waited, watched, learned a little more about Hermann's demeanor and personality (which might have been vulnerable, but wasn't helpless), that he allowed Hermann to defy him so easily.

This, as a matter of life and death, though, could not be allowed to slide by.

"I'd like everyone on high notice."

His uncle nodded. "Might I ask what's changed that you feel it's necessary now?"

"Hermann had a vision. Dying in this castle, and he still had the veil on. That's what he described."

"And you believe this vision?"

"I talk to dragons, Hermann sees the future." He believed in Hermann's magic as surely as he believed in his own existence.

"I will alert the guards and staff."

And his uncle believed in him. "I've already assigned him a rotating guard."

"And don't you think that's a bit stifling?"

"Better stifled for a month than dead." Hermann hadn't said how the crime had gone in the vision, but he didn't need to for Newt's imagination to fill in several scenarios. Whatever the circumstances, they all ended with Hermann on the floor, bleeding, dying.

His uncles hand on his shoulder was strong. "Of course. Anything else?"

Newt had been thinking it over since the first news of assassination had reached him (what felt like years rather than weeks ago), and his mind had returned to the same conclusion over and over. There was only one kingdom, one ruler that held that sort of animosity toward Newt, and possibly toward Hermann: the dragon slayers.

"No visitors from the south allowed through the gates," Newt said quietly, feeling slightly guilty. "Including, or maybe especially Hermann's family. But please-"

"I'll keep it quiet."

 

Newt did not cringe when Hermann, surrounded by four guards, marched up to him.

"You have locked the gates to my family? You have no right!"

That, on the other hand, drew a very real reaction. "Excuse me? I missed the coup when you became king and took control of this kingdom. So I think I very much have the _right_ to do anything I _want_ , and" Oh no, this going in the very wrong direction. "you have no say in it. You have-" And that was where Newt caught himself before he said anything offensive to Hermann.

"It may very well be within your right to control how I live, but you don't control my life! It is my choice to let these events play out!" Hermann was an interesting shade of red, with the tendons standing out in his neck.

"You hate me that much?" Newt asked quietly. "I was that terrible to you that you'd rather die than stay here?" Turning to hide how much the idea hurt, even if it wasn't what Hermann had meant, Newt waved his hand. "You're all dismissed. I'm sorry I troubled you all." His posture said everything about his feelings, even while his voice was steady and clear.

There were embarrassed murmurings as the guards cleared out, leaving Newt alone with Hermann.

"Newt-"

"Go on! You can think what you want, but I'll mourn your death."

***

Hermann wasn't sure how he could explain it to anyone, since there was no possible way anyone else could understand his situation. How could he possibly attempt to change every unpleasant thing he saw? How much was truly in his control? Who was to say that if he managed to change one thing that it would still happen under different circumstances? To his estimation, in his learning, to change what the numbers said would be to change the universe itself.

Who was he to defy the universe?

A single, small man declaring himself more important than all the heavens was ludicrous. Hermann was not more important than his father or Newt, so how could he flaunt this secret knowledge? It felt like he'd stolen it, this power to see the things nobody should be able to. The future simply wasn't meant to be known.

It wasn't meant to be known, but it wouldn't stop revealing itself to him. What was he supposed to do? And who would sympathize with him if he were to say how lonely and small it made it him feel?

And he could certainly never tell Newt how miserable he felt his life often was that death wasn't such a terrible option.

He sat in the darkness of the bedchambers, all lamps extinguished except one, holding the fraying remains of his childhood comfort toy. His journal was in his lap, shut and clasped, to stop himself from looking at that moment over and over. An equation where the solution factored out to zero, that was his life.

Numbers came very easily to Hermann, but he was starting to find he didn't care very much being reduced to them.

 

Newt never came to bed. It was an observation of consistency, not that Hermann wanted to be sharing the bed, not exactly. The idea, though, that what he'd said drove Newt from his own bed was not very comforting. Newt was right, after all, that Hermann was not in charge, and he had no right to displace the king from his own bed.

Again, Hermann sat in the darkened chambers in front of the fire, barely more than hot coals at this point, with his journal open in his hands. The pages where he was reduced to zero were laid out in front of him, and it took an effort in self-control to not look at it again. Maybe it was the hope that it would be different, that he'd see something else, something other than the end.

He fingered the edge of the page as he frowned at it.

_If he hated being reduced to this, why was he letting it rule him?_

Before he allowed himself to reconsider, Hermann tore the pages from the journal and tossed them in the fire.

***

"Your majesty."

Newt looked up, blinking rapidly. His eyes were dry and heavy from lack of sleep, but the business of running the kingdom waited for nothing. "Yes?"

"A moment of your time."

"I really don't have a moment to spare," Newt said, unable to hide the exhaustion in his voice even though he really wanted to snap. "I have things of importance to see to here." To his surprise, Hermann bowed deeply with the veil flowing all around his head and face.

"Of course, your majesty, but just a few short seconds." Hermann still had his head lowered.

Newt couldn't refuse that, knew that from Hermann it was a sincere gesture, and nodded to the others around the table. As he approached, Hermann straightened up, and Newt found himself smoothing the veil back without thinking. "What do you need?"

With a quick glance at the other men now milling about, Hermann said quietly, "I wanted to apologize. You were right, and I was being foolish and stubborn. It's difficult to explain; it feels like the magic isn't-"

"Don't explain. I get it. It got in your head, letting it guide you instead of you guiding it."

Hermann nodded, and looked ashamed. "Please, your majesty, I don't want my life to equate to nothing, and that's what I saw."

Without thinking, because what Newt really saw in Hermann's eyes was fear, he reached out and put his hand on his husband's cheek. "Tell me what I can do to make you safe and comfortable. I just want you safe. So much."

***

Hermann had gotten used to the guard's footsteps behind him once more. He wasn't sure if he really felt more safe because he hadn't felt like he'd been in danger before, but it was something he could deal with. He'd made a promise not to try and lose his guard, not to torment the man only trying to do his duty in any way, and even allowed him into the study room while he tutored the children.

That had been a concession more for the children's benefit though, as if there was truly an assassin preparing to kill him, Hermann didn't want Mako or Chuck to be anywhere near him when it happened.

Burning those pages had been the right thing to do. The vision hadn't been wrong, of that Hermann was positive, but at the same time his thinking was more and more 'if' rather than 'when'. It wasn't controlling his thoughts any longer even though it had only been four days.

With the weather warming up, the sun becoming more prominent each day, however subtly, and the fields looking greener than ever, Hermann couldn't control his optimism. He enjoyed standing on the parapet walk to watch the young riders train below with the sun warming his back. It was so different now, and certainly different from his old home. He'd spent all his time hiding, keeping as far out of sight as possible to avoid his father's attention, and here…

Hermann had never enjoyed the sun before. With a sigh, knowing he had other things he should do, he headed away from the view of the courtyard. But he wasn't quite done with the sun yet, and walked the external hallways to enjoy it for as long as possible before he had to retreat to the internal halls and rooms.

"I'm sorry to lead you on something of a goosechase today," he said to the guard following him. "The weather is just so nice."

_sunlight shade sunlight shade_

Hermann itched the back of his neck, a more difficult task than it might seem because of the veil and large furred collar of his robe. But the itch would not abate, and was slowly transforming into sharp, small pain, like a pinprick.

_sunlight shade sunlight shade_

The pain was tracking slowly down his back, and Hermann shifted his arms and shoulders trying to relieve it. He stopped walking to massage his shoulder, feeling the joints pop and muscles relax. Now the pain was down in his lower back, not bad enough to prevent him from walking, but not normal by any stretch. Then the itching on the back of his neck again; it was like he'd suddenly been infested.

He groaned in irritation, and had a serious thought about going to the physician.

_shade_

What was it about the shade that his mind was so fixated on?

_His body, on the floor, blood pooling around him, dark and almost black in the shade-_

Hermann turned to see a figure in dark clothing almost upon him, face obscured except for the eyes, and a flash of silver. There was a sharp pain in his side as he continued to turn, but the sudden fear surging through him dulled it. He shoved hard, stumbling backwards as his knees went abruptly weak, and he fell to the ground.

The assassin was coming at him again, a different, smaller knife in his hand this time. This time there wouldn't be a quick, unexpected movement to turn the blade aside. This time-

The reaction was automatic, a thing Hermann didn't know he was capable of, as the metal blade warped, twisted, and curved back into the hand holding it. Even on the unseen, Hermann's magic worked, and every bit of metal in the assassin's possession ripped into flesh.

With an unexpectedly weak little cry, the mysterious killer fell to the floor not far away from Hermann's feet.

The first call for help was hardly more than a wheezing breath as he panted. The pain in his side was starting to make itself known, along with an insidious chilliness in his feet and hands. "Help!!" All he could spare was a single glance for the his murdered guard, because most of his attention had to be held on the man still groaning in front of him. The little bits of metal, mostly parts of his outfit, hadn't been nearly enough to kill him, and there was no way to tell how long before he recovered enough to finish Hermann in some other way. And with the growing heaviness in his limbs, sluggishness and fog settling over his brain, there would be no fighting back this time.

Hermann Gottlieb, prince of the dragons, an equation solvable for zero.

A noise, like the sound of the furnaces roaring to life and heated metal shrieking with strain, assaulted his ears, but as he fell flat to his back with his arms too shaky to support him, all Hermann could do was assume it was the oncoming rush of death.

A shadow, deeper than the simple shade he was in currently, fell over him. Death's shadow, yes, that made sense. His eyes were not making sense, his brain was not properly telling him what was standing in front of him.

A human-shaped creature, larger than any man (even Captain Kaidanovski), the scales and talons and horns was there. Perhaps it was his own embodiment of death, that this was the way he would be removed from the mortal plane, this would be the last thing he saw as punishment for the things he regretted most in his life.

Eye blazing fiery orange and green ignored him though, and settled on the assassin.

Nothing he'd ever seen quite prepared him for the sight of the carnage as the beast ripped the helpless man apart. Fine, his death had been imminent apparently, but it would be coming for Hermann next.

Surely. Hermann closed his eyes, the sounds of the carnage becoming fainter, and slipped off into darkness.


	20. Chapter 20

"No, that's enough."

"Release that pin."

"Move that animal!"

"Your hands are shaking. Move aside."

"Squeeze this into his mouth, a single drop at a time."

The physician stepped back and gave his work a hard look-over. "What do you think, your majesty?"

Squeezing a medicine-soaked cloth into Hermann's mouth as instructed, Newt shrugged and refused to look at the ugly wound.

"It's all right," the old man said, more gently than before. "Everything went well. Do you see? His breathing is steady and deep. His color has improved. No doubt he saved himself at the last moment by turning, taking the blade in his side rather than his back. I'm sorry my work is much larger than that of the assassin."

"But he'll live?"

"Of course. The organ has been repaired. With the proper regiment of mixtures, he'll recover to be as healthy as ever with no diminished abilities." He moved to a basin filled with clean water and washed his hands. "You can stop that now. He'll want some when he wakes up, but for now it's fine."

Newt had never been so thankful for having busywork shoveled off on him. His hands _had_ been shaking; it would have been a good opportunity to learn, but he'd been incapable of concentrating in the least. "I'm sorry for being useless."

"You did fine. Clean yourself so you can help me dress this."

The dressing compound was a moss known for its nutrients, ground to a powder, the oil of deerberry added along with boiled water to make a paste. Thinking the steps through was the only way Newt could manage to keep his emotions in check. He'd lost control once already; that was enough.

There were no plans in his future to become a physician, even if he abandoned his throne and moved to a distant land, but he did his best to mimic Lane's calm and even disposition while working. Even when his patient had been the king, Newt's father, dying in front of him, the old man was as steady as the mountain.

"Quit gathering wool. Help me."

And much like his uncles, the man understood when Newt needed a kick in the backside.

 

"What little I could determine from the remains was exactly as you'd expect: no obvious markings, no affiliations. There was nothing in his clothing, or among his possessions to identify him or who might have hired him. Very definitively a professional." Lane looked up from the remains to evaluate Newt. "And how are you feeling?"

"Well as can be expected. After everything that's happened… Is there any way-"

"You look tired. You should sleep."

"I'm fine. It was just a moment; not even a slip really." When Lane just continued to look at him, obviously waiting, Newt sighed. "I don't even remember why I was there, just that I was walking and I heard noises, and then I heard him call for help."

_The guard on the floor, the coppery smell of blood so heavy in the air it filled his senses. Hermann was on the ground, a pool of blood slowly forming beneath him. There was no thinking, no consideration; the magic filled him, spilling out through his flesh. It redressed him, removed his human outfit and clothed him in the flesh of a dragon, gave him the instincts of a beast._

"I knew what I was doing," Newt said, and accepted the small phial he was handed. "I absolutely knew what I was doing when I ripped him apart because I thought he'd killed Hermann."

"Drink it, your majesty, and rest. I will keep careful watch over him."

It was true, the fatigue had a hold of him now, and Newt could feel himself quickly fading. He'd never used his magic so much, never knew he was even capable of such a thing, and was quickly becoming aware of the toll of such an expenditure. "Yeah yeah." He retreated to one of the unused cots, the one closest to where Hermann was situated, and stretched out on it. With a moment of fumbling to remove and set aside his crown, Newt downed the contents of the phial.

As he blinked slowly, he watched Lane begin cleaning up. The physician's watchful eyes settled on Hermann's sleeping form, covered in a light sheet, every so often. There had been many father figures in Newt's life, even while his father had still been alive, and Lane had been one. With the arrival of Hermann into his life, the knowledge Lane had shared was becoming more important than ever to Newt. He finally fell asleep, smiling softly.

 

"His color is much better. The restorative is working well."

Newt wrinkled his nose as the ugly wound and discoloration. "That doesn't look good. Is it supposed to do that?"

"It's merely blood beneath the skin. It'll be reabsorbed. And the wound will heal to be hardly noticeable. The weapon was sharp and thin, the rest was my doing. Really, you don't need to be so concerned." Lane patted Newt on the shoulder. "Here, sit and stop him from moving while I clean it."

Hermann _did_ look better, and the wound itself, one day removed from being repaired, was clean and clear. The mass of stitches was painful to look at though. Sitting on the cot, wedging himself against Hermann, Newt settled his hand on his hip. It was so encouragingly warm when Newt thought for sure Hermann would die. "Your right side is a mess," he said quietly, feeling the uneven texture of scar tissue rather than smooth flesh.

When the physician very carefully wiped across the stitching with an alcohol soaked cloth, Hermann squirmed, and made quiet noises of discomfort.

"Just a moment more, your highness," Lane said, managing to be both calming and detached as he finished cleaning the wound. A clean cloth with just a hint of deerberry spread on its surface covered it, and then was tied in place. "Your highness? Are you awake?"

Hermann groaned and moved his arm.

"Ah good. Sit with him, your majesty, I trust if he needs pain relief, you know what to give him?"

"Sure."

"Just enough to ease the pain; don't put him back to sleep. And don't let him roll to his back yet."

Newt leaned forward, careful to not put any of his weight on Hermann other than the hand still on his hip, and said, "Hey, Hermann. How're you doing?"

Though his eyelids fluttered, they didn't open, and Hermann didn't say anything.

"Take your time. I'll be right here for as long as it takes." He reached up and brushed Hermann's hair from his forehead. "Right here."

 

Newt sat and waited, and while Hermann never fully awoke, he started moving more and making quiet noises. Only when it was fully dark and the little hospital area was lit by a pair of low lamps did Newt get up from his spot. Only when he stretched did he realize he hadn't put the crown back on. In fact, he'd forgotten all about any official business he'd left on the table.

His uncles were capable though, and if he was actually required, they'd come get him.

"If you wake up and need something, I will be right over here." There wasn't any way to tell if Hermann was conscious enough to hear him, but to not speak to him was to act as if Hermann were dead, and that was something Newt couldn't do.

It was a good thing his uncles hadn't shown up, because his thoughts were completely scattered, vacillating between the what-ifs and Hermann's life, and the relief that he'd be fine. No matter how much he concentrated on that good news, that Lane had said Hermann would be perfectly fine, Newt continued to worry. From all the observation he'd done of his father and his uncles, he'd come to learn that allowing truly personal concern interfere with his rule wasn't a good way to run a kingdom.

Now, if Newt had the identity of the person that had hired the assassin, it would be different. That was effectively an act of war. But without that information, Newt couldn't let it cloud his judgment. He blew out a breath and crouched next to the cot Hermann was on. "You have got me in knots, you know that?" He tucked the sheet around Hermann's body, just enough to keep it in place without exerting any pressure across his back, then ran his hand across the top of his thigh. "I wish I knew how to convince you I want to do this for real. Maybe when you're awake and feeling better, you can tell me, OK? Good night."

***

There was something at his back preventing him from rolling over, but when he reached for it, the movement of his arm and side proved to be too painful. Hermann turned his head, trying to locate another person. "Hello?" His voice was horribly hoarse, struggling to be more than a croak, but the worst part was how dry his mouth and throat were.

"Oh! You're awake! Here here here."

Newt appeared at his back, and very carefully lifted his shoulders, but kept him to his side. He held a cup to Hermann's lips, and though he started with a single sip, that turned in desperate slurping as cold, fresh water flooded his mouth. When full for the moment, he pushed the cup away. There were questions…

"Are you hungry?"

Hermann's stomach growled in the affirmative, and the man sighed in defeat. "Yes."

"It's not much, just some oatmeal with apples and sugar. Nice and easy to eat." Newt added a little steaming water to a bowl and stirred before handing it over. "Do you remember what happened?"

"The man apparently attempting to kill me and failing? Yes, I do. It would be hard to forget. Please, I can't eat in this position. What is back there preventing me from turning? Is it that blasted cat again?" There was no way he was going to slurp from the bowl like a dog.

"Let me get the doctor. Do the best you can for now."

Before Hermann could complain further, Newt was gone. So he wasn't dead, which was a relief, but whatever was going on here was a major inconvenience. His shoulder was sore from being forced to lay on it without being able to move; his stomach was now really starting to twist itself into hungry knots while he couldn't actually get the food in his mouth; and there was a very serious, heavy pain starting to assert itself around his back. "Newt." And very suddenly, the pain was pushing aside all other concerns, all thoughts, _everything_.

Somehow this was worse than the injuries he'd suffered from the dragon. It felt deeper, like there was a fountain within himself that was bubbling forth agony, and there was no escaping it. Holding still did nothing to lessen it; what little he could adjust his position didn't help. "Newt! Please!"

There was a hand under his head. "Here, drink, for the pain."

This was familiar. Slightly sweet, very heady, warm going down that would soon spread throughout his body. Hermann swallowed it down eagerly, and then could only wait for it to take effect. Until then, he was useless as anything other than a quivering mass of pain. Distantly, he felt Newt's hand on him, just gently petting him, his hair, his arm, his leg, as a tiny pinprick of comfort in his ocean of misery. What Hermann really wanted to do was curl into Newt, absorb his warmth and compassion until the pain subsided, but he couldn't move. The frustration only added to his discomfort (more mental than physical in this way though).

His limbs were warm and loose, and the pain faded into an angry buzz, and when Newt spoke Hermann smiled.

"Just stay limp, Hermann. We're going to sit you up, all right? Don't try to help; it'll strain the stitches. Hermann? Are you listening?"

"Yes, your majesty." It sounded funny in his head, but nobody laughed when he said it, so maybe it wasn't that funny. This was why he never bothered trying to be funny. Only his siblings had ever laughed at his attempts because of their utter failure, and that was where his sense of humor had died.

"Water, Hermann. Drink some."

He was sitting upright, and his back and side was a ball of pain again. Things were happening that seemed to be bypassing his immediate reality.

"It was a strong dose, your majesty, to soothe the pain and not put him to sleep. Just be careful of-"

"The wound. I know. I'll take good care of him."

Hermann turned and smiled at Newt, who was sitting next to him. With that smile firmly in place, he took a drink from the cup held up to his mouth. "Thank you, your majesty."

"Just call me Newt. You sound really strange."

"Yes, your Newt."

"Fine, just eat this. _In_ your mouth, Hermann. Open wider."

"My arms don't work, your Newt. Your Newt. My Newt." Hermann looked down at himself, ignoring the spoon he was supposed to take into his mouth. "I'm naked."

Quietly Newt laughed. "You are, so I can see how skinny you are. That's why you have to eat. Come on, it's tasty."

That sounded like a good idea, so Hermann allowed his Newt to feed him. "I saw a dragon," he commented between bites, licking his lips for any of the sugary mixture still clinging to them. "I thought I was dead."

Newt fed him another bite before responding. "It was close. You almost were."

"By a dragon?"

"No, that dragon was there to save you."

"How do you know?"

Newt smiled at him. "I know everything about dragons."

Pulling his head back, smearing oatmeal across his cheek, Hermann frowned. "You do not. You told me it wasn't possible."

"Did I?" Newt's thumb followed the trail of oatmeal across Hermann's cheek toward his mouth. He was still smiling.

It was both sweet and infuriating. "Don't patronize me. I remember you said… something like that. And-and…" There was something off about Newt, and Hermann couldn't quite figure out what it was, until he blurted out, "Your crown!"

"What about it?" Newt asked, clearing the last of the oatmeal from Hermann's face before licking his thumb clean.

And in that instant, Hermann couldn't remove his gaze from Newt's mouth. "You…" he said faintly, then grabbed his head. "My crown!"

"You're adorable. It's in its spot, waiting for you to be healthy enough to wear it again. Which means you should be eating, not talking gibberish."

"Gibberish! I never-"

Still smiling, even wider than before, Newt leaned forward until he was almost nose to nose with Hermann. "Hermann, you are flying higher than a dragon right now on mohn, and as adorable as it is, I'm sorry this keeps happening to you."

Hermann started to blush as he looked directly into Newt's eyes. "So am I. But I'm not sorry for coming here."

"I'm not sorry either. And I'm more than happy to take care of you whenever you need it."

The heat in his cheeks intensified as Newt tilted his head and actually kissed him quickly on the nose, but Hermann couldn't stop staring into his eyes.

"Will you finish this food for me?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to feed you?"

"Yes."

"OK then."

***

"This is a privilege. Act like you belong here. Do you hear me, Chuck?"

"Yes, sir!"

Mako was in her nicest outfit, a dress her father had brought back from one of his trips, and delicate red slippers. He smiled at her and nodded when she looked up at him.

"You wouldn't have been invited if he didn't want you there. Be brave, and confident. You're a dragon rider."

She managed a smile. It was silly; it was still just lessons after all. But while the prince was recuperating from _another_ accident (that nobody would explain to them, and it was very frustrating), she and Chuck had been invited up to the king's chambers. That way they could still have their lessons while the prince stayed in bed.

It was exciting and worrying, and Chuck was probably going to say something dumb or mean, like he always did, and then they'd never be allowed to ride dragons again! Mako turned and poked Chuck in the shoulder. "Be nice."

He grinned, and said nothing.

"Father!"

"I'll be nice! Don't be such a tattler."

And to Mako's consternation, their fathers both chuckled. With a snort of frustration, she glared at Chuck. "If you do something bad, I'll… I'll shove your head in dung!"

"Mako," her father warned her.

"What did I walk in on?" The king stopped short when he saw her. "The prince is going to expect you to dress like this every day as soon as he sees it. It's very pretty."

Ducking her head and blushing, Mako said, "Father got it for me."

"You look like a princess already. You're not trying to steal the prince from me, are you?"

"No, your majesty!"

Chuck giggled. "She likes him!"

If she wasn't allowed to hit Chuck for telling her secrets to adults, then she was never going to talk to Chuck again.

"I know for a fact that he likes you too."

The whole situation made her want to hide in her room for a week.

***

There were certain movements that made him wince, but for the most part, Hermann felt fine. Naturally he was on forced bed rest _again_. Just because he'd only been allowed to escape care at all hours of the day didn't mean he had to just lay around; he could still get around on his own.

But Newt, who begrudgingly accepted that Hermann was indeed well enough to not need a nursemaid, would hear nothing of it. Until all the stitching was out, Hermann was confined to as little activity as possible. Though Newt had been very accommodating to his desires in this time, and had even convinced Master Choi to give up some books for him in his time of boredom.

When he was finally up and truly around, Hermann would have to repay the man in some way. He had no marketable skills, nothing worth trading for a favor of such magnitude, but to not bother to try would be the true insult.

And as it was, he had other things he had to deal with at the moment that required his full attention. It wasn't nearly as orderly as the table in the study room, but it couldn't be helped (because Newt would not allow it in his concern for Hermann's health). The proper books were spread out around him on the bed, with his journal tucked next to him under the blankets, and a small table with a pair of chairs was arranged at bedside for the children. The lamps were turned up all to their highest, and the fire was low to prevent the room from becoming too warm.

Really, he'd wanted to set this up in the antechamber, to get some sunlight and fresh air, but with no easy way to deal with his wound, it hadn't been practical. Resting on any surface other than the bed was too much pressure there, and he was tired of being out of his mind on mohn, even if it was comforting to be free of pain. This would just have to happen while he was in bed since he was determined to get back into a vaguely normal schedule, and it was important that the children not go too long without their tutelage.

Hermann took a last drink of his tea, and he was ready.

 

Newt had sat with them, silently at the desk in case just in case they needed something, and then escorted the children to the stables when they were finished. He was back after that to clean up the books and return them to the library, and then fetch lunch.

"You don't need to do so much," Hermann told him as Newt set the lunch plates out.

"Dessert," Newt said in way of reply. "Don't tell anyone; I had to steal some from the kitchen."

"I'd hardly call you taking food from the kitchen stealing. It is, by definition, your food."

Newt shrugged. "It's everyone's food. I'm not the only one who eats around here." He looked up and grinned. "Do you need me to feed you again?"

"That's not necessary," Hermann said, blushing furiously, that hazy memory fresh in his mind. He'd never been that far out of his mind before, and in hindsight hadn't enjoyed the experience. "Please, don't remind me of what a fool I made of myself."

"I didn't find you foolish at all." Newt handed over a bowl of stew. "I have to admit, I liked seeing you with your guard down. I'd like to see you like that when you're not medicated."

The blush intensified, and Hermann stared at the bowl in his hands. There was nothing he could say to that without sounding like he was mentally deficient. Newt calling him adorable and that childish kiss on the nose… Those things dominated his thoughts, trying to determine what to do, what to say about them. "I-I don't-"

"Don't talk. Just eat."

"When I have something to say that you don't want to hear, is that what you'll say? Simply tell me not to speak." Hermann wasn't sure why, but there was simply something about Newt that made combative words fly from his mouth without thinking.

But Newt let it slide from his shoulders, like it was something he expected to be asked. "Nah. I would just expect you'd do it in private, not in front of everyone. My father never had any interest in a queen as a presentation piece, and I guess I learned that from him, that I'd rather have someone who…" He stopped, and remained silent for a long while. When Newt started again, it seemed to be on a different topic. "When I was little, all I ever wanted was a friend. I don't have any brothers or sisters, no cousins, and all the other riders I trained with left. I couldn't go and make friends."

Hermann understood that perfectly well, the isolation, even with siblings.

"Then when I got a little older, got a better idea of how things worked, went different places with my father, I realized I did have friends, but that still wasn't what I wanted. I saw people at festivals and feasts, and they talked to one another, shared their food, danced… I didn't want just friends, because I needed people closer than friends." Without asking, Newt reached over and sprinkled bits of some green, leafy vegetable in Hermann's stew. "I wanted that person I could share a meal or laugh or dance with. I wanted a companion that I could talk to and wouldn't just bow their head and take a knee."

"I must have presented a very convenient opportunity then."

"Actually, I didn't know much beyond the fact that you existed. And my uncle told me something that led me to believe there was more to you than a spare son." He took a small bite of stew, then wrinkled his nose. "Too hot still."

Either Newt didn't see the disbelief on Hermann's face, or he was ignoring it expertly. "So you agreed to this arrangement, knowing what it would entail and the limitations to our… relationship, without knowing what I looked like or what kind of person I was? That's insanity!" Then a suspicion that he had never voiced demanded it be answered. "You didn't think you were getting my sister, did you?"

"No, though I'm sure she would have done very well in your position. Your father made it very clear, though I think it was meant as an insult and he didn't expect for us to agree to it."

"You weren't hesitant to be married to…" Hermann gestured to himself, as if saying the words would make Newt suddenly realize what he'd gotten himself into.

"A man? Or a dragon slayer? Doesn't matter. No, that didn't bother me at all. What about you? I mean, you didn't get any choice at all, did you?" With his bowl in one hand, Newt got onto the bed and scooted over to be next to Hermann. "As a king, I know I have to make compromises between what i want and what is best for the kingdom, but you…"

Buying himself a few moments to mull over Newt's words, Hermann took a bite of his stew.  "You must know," he said eventually, "that my preferences run to the… masculine. I was more concerned that you would be displeased with me. And your boots are getting dirt on the bed."

"Oh, shit. Hold this." After shoving his bowl into the crook of Hermann's arm, Newt reached down to unbuckle his boots and kick them to the floor. He took a moment to brush the blanket off before returning to his place. "I hope I haven't been too cruel."

"No, not at all. And I hope you haven't found me too difficult while I've tried to adjust. This is actually the first time I've defended myself, to anyone." The revelation surprised him a little. "I suppose it means I know I'm safe to express myself to you, the way I couldn't before."

With the spoon halfway to his mouth, Newt turned and smiled at him. "I'm really glad to hear that. Even if it does involve you snapping at me. But maybe I deserved it."

"It's not polite. You are the k-"

"If I were merely the king, would I bring you lunch? Come on, Hermann, you have to see that I'm not just the king. I'm a person too. And that's the only way we'll work together. Assuming you… want to. I really don't want to make you do something you don't want to; I found that very off-putting."

"As did I. But you have to understand that I am not such a trusting person. Perhaps it's my father's fault, or maybe I simply never have been. I…" Hermann looked away, noted dimly that his back was starting to pain him, and shook his head. "I don't even trust myself."

Newt asked, very quietly, "Is there anything I can do to help that?"

"I don't think so. I'll just have to figure it out myself."

"Oh."

They finished lunch in silence.


	21. Chapter 21

It wasn't perfect, because Hermann didn't like having to teach the children from bed, but he managed. Of course after a week of it, none of them were terribly enamored with the setting any longer. If his wound continued to heal at the rate it was (thanks to the careful attention of Newt, no denying that), this would quite possibly be the final study session held in the darkness of the bedchamber.

When the door opened at the usual time, instead of Chuck and Mako, it was Newt and several servants. "Little change of schedule today," the king said cheerily, and led the servants to the wardrobe. He opened it and started removing clothing, _Hermann's_ clothing.

"What-what is happening?"

Newt started going through the drawers and removing clothing from there as well. "Not that," he said, and snatched Hermann's _lämmchen_ back from between the folds of a jerkin. And when the drawers and wardrobe were empty of everything except his underclothes, Newt waved the servants away.

"Please, what's going on?" Hermann asked, growing more alarmed by the moment as Newt refused to explain.

"Now this." Newt went for the crown.

Hermann's heart practically stopped in his chest. "Your majesty! Please, I don't know what I did, but I…" Things had seemed fine, good even, and here he was being… removed? "I'm sure I didn't mean it."

A knock on the door spared him from further humiliating himself with begging, but Hermann fully expected there to be guards ready to escort him away.

"Come in. Good, yes, can you stand there in a row at the end of the bed? Perfect." Newt was still fiddling with the crown as the new group of servants all stood at the end of the bed with their arms full. "There! Not a tear either."

Hermann could only stare, still frightened and now doubly confused, as Newt turned and showed him the veil he had just removed.

"Now, since I just took all your clothes away, you _must_ pick some new ones out. Whichever you like best for now. I thought you looked very good in the dark before, so I had mostly dark brought up." Newt folded the veil, then sat next to him on the bed.

In a daze, Hermann picked out clothing that appealed to his eye and his sensibilities until they'd looked at everything on offer.

"Excellent. And now…" Newt waved off the group with the clothing. "I know you're desperate to get out of here, and I _promise_ just one more thing, and you can go have a proper bath."

Oh. A proper bath was probably the one thing in the world that Hermann wanted at the moment.

Newt laughed. "And by the look on your face, I see that's something you're looking forward to. OK! I'll be right back." He hopped off the bed and hurried out of the room. It was only a few moments before he returned, and this time he did have Chuck and Mako with him, along with a large platter that had a cake on it. "Happy I don't know what to call it!" At Hermann's confused look, Newt added, "It's been six months. You don't have to wear all that fancy stuff or the veil any longer! And I brought the kids along because of cake."

"Yay!" Chuck and Mako said in unison.

That finally got Hermann to smile. "Very well. Cake it is."

 

After the cake had been eaten and the children shooed off to riding lessons, Hermann finally got his time in the bath. It felt so nice getting in the water, it was practically a sexual experience. He knew he was making so fairly lewd noises as the water enveloped him.

But Newt looked in on him after a criminally short amount of time. "I'm sorry, but the doctor said to not let you soak too long. Not until the stitches are out."

What could he do but comply? To not and drag this on further was foolish. With a heavy sigh, Hermann pushed himself to his feet, still feeling an uncomfortable pull on his back and side, and actually accepted Newt's help to get out of the large tub.

"So what do you think? Up to going to the library for a bit?"

"Perhaps. Or maybe just for a walk. I've been stationary for too long so that even sitting sounds dull." Really, he just wanted some sunlight. "Is there… Is there somewhere I can go outside? Safe, of course." But then could anyplace be safe for him? One attempt had almost been successful; the next might do it. Or if not, the one after that. How long could he continue to predict his own death until it finally came true?

"I do have a spot, though it's not very scenic on its own," Newt said, seemingly unconcerned about another attack. "If you think you can handle some stairs."

"I'd like to try."

 

After getting dressed in clothing so light compared to the bulky, showy robes that Hermann feels nearly naked, Newt led him through what amounted to a secret door in the nearest tower. Up a skinny set of steps to a small, enclosed hall to _another_ set of steps, and they emerged onto a wide platform.

"So technically I think we're over the bedchamber," Newt said once they got up there. "I've known it was here, but never really paid attention to the actual architecture of it."

Hermann stared out over the low crenellations, barely up to his waist, at the view stretching out as far as the eye could see. The sky was cloudless and perfectly blue, the sun was at his back, and the horizon was the only thing stopping him from seeing forever. "What is it for? It seems dangerous to have an unguarded entrance so close to your room."

"Dragons. Convenient place to land without getting a lot of attention. Just slip right down to the bath or bed, and most people don't even know I've been gone." He leaned on a crenellation, standing next to Hermann. "Doesn't even catch shadow from the mountain. I don't know why I don't come up here more often."

"It is rather lovely. Back at home" _it is getting harder to refer to that place as home_ "the towers were all manned with guards that would give everyone who ventured to the top sour looks. I'm sure they took that duty as a chance to nap."

"I bet you were a little terror, always catching them slacking off on duty."

With a side look, Hermann saw Newt smiling, wistfully, and shrugged. "Perhaps. And I was never called anything as endearing as a terror when I did so."

That got Newt laughing, and Hermann couldn't help but grin a little in return. He _had_ been a nosy little shit, just like Bastien had been, always running and tattling to Mother (never Father). "My brother would be the worst king ever," he said. "Not Dietrich. Bastien. He has the will, but no leadership skills. He was always the first one to give up on a situation and run to someone to fix it."

"He'll learn when people stop doing things for him. And if he doesn't, he'll never get the chance to rule. I met your sister, after all. She could take control if given the chance."

"My father would never-"

"That's not taking control, is it? You take control when the opportunity is presented and by fighting for it."

Hermann turned from the stunning view to look hard at Newt. "That might be how dragons take control, but that is not how my sister-"

"I know you've been a powerless prince, and my prince for not very long now, so you might not realize this, but the polite veneer of politics is a lie. This is all a quest to push back that brutality that you assign only to dragons." Newt grinned. "I paid very close attention to my father since I was able to understand what a hellhole some other kingdoms were."

"You were very poetic at the start there."

"Thank you."

"I hate poetry."

"See? You have no idea how much I actually enjoy talking to you!"

Truthfully, Hermann had never expected that kind of insight from Newt, and of something he'd never seen himself. So much of it he'd merely chalked up to his father's deteriorating state of mind. "Is that really true? That you spend all your days stopping the world around you from descending into chaos?"

"Kind of?"

For whatever reason, the answer, the way it was said, made Hermann laugh, and return his gaze to the beautiful. "I'd like to come here more often."

"Sure. Whenever you want." Newt hesitated, sudden trepidation expressed in his posture. "I have some news though. I have an errand I need to attend to. I'll be gone for a week or so."

"I'll have to go with you?"

"No. I'll go alone. But don't worry, all right? I'll be fine."

Newt was far too casual, and Hermann couldn't understand it in the least. "Do you not care for own safety? Or mine? This doesn't seem the proper time to be gallivanting off to parts unknown!"

"I care very much about your safety, and that's why I have to go. I'm going to see my mother."

There had been plenty of stories about the king, but none about the queen. Though she was obviously not truly queen if she had never married the king, never lived in the castle. Gods above, how had Newt been raised from a baby? "Why doesn't she live here? With you. You're her child."

"It's something you couldn't understand.. But don't blame her."

No, Hermann didn't, because he understood. When he'd seen how the dragon magic affected Newt, it was very easy to picture how it make take control of a person if it was allowed to go unchecked, untamed. "Would you tell me about her? I assume she has dragon magic, that's where you got it from."

The picture was becoming clear, why Newt wasn't concerned about an heir, why Newt's father sought this woman out. The crown of the King of the Dragons wasn't passed so simply from father to son. An "heir" would need to be sought out, but how that worked was a true mystery.

"There are actually legends about her. At least that's what I heard when I was young and heard people talking about us. My father and I. I know one for sure: she's older than anyone knows."

"Hm."

 

Newt was leaving the next day, and Hermann was apprehensive to say the least. He'd never been without Newt's protection, and even with the friendly relation he had with the duke, he couldn't think things would be fine. To do that would only be inviting further disaster.

"Thought I might find you up here. Should I have a chair brought up?"

Hermann made an indistinct noise. That would be convenient, but either way he'd manage. And honestly at the moment, he didn't care at all. It was a clear night and the stars were out in full with the moon dark. "We'll see a black moon," he said.

Newt looked at the sky. "How do you know that?"

"Math."

A snort. "Not that I don't believe you, but I really don't believe math can tell us all that. And really, what's the use of knowing when there's going to be a black moon? It doesn't mean anything."

"A black moon? No. But there's so much more to it. Days, weeks, months, years. The seasons. Math ties us to the sky, and what's beyond it. There." Hermann pointed to a bright star in an attempt to direct Newt's eyes. "You see that one, and next to it a faint one that's reddish?"

"Not at all, but I'll take your word for it that it's there."

"That's not a star. It's a planet, just like what we're standing on. Not _like_ it, but it's not a star. The sky is not a blanket with sparkling jewels sewn to it. It is a space beyond our understanding." When Newt remained silent, Hermann looked at him, expecting to see either pure amusement or heavy skepticism.

Instead, Newt is watching him very seriously with a gentle smile on his face.

"What?"

"OK."

"OK what?"

"Whatever you say." Newt's smile didn't falter in the least. "How could I possibly argue with you after that?"

"Well, I, uh." Hermann was utterly flustered, and had no idea how to respond. Nobody had ever listened to ideas and taken them seriously before.

Newt actually sat down before leaning back and resting with his hands behind his head. "I always liked the stars, but never learned much about them. I know you can navigate by them, but have no idea how."

"Perhaps I could return the favor you extended to me and teach you."

While Newt's face had been serene and thoughtful while he'd been looking at the sky, it lit up with the question. "Sure! But after I get back."

"Ah yes. Of course."

***

"What time is it?" Hermann asked sleepily from his spot in bed.

"Still dark. I'm leaving from your little observation deck, and I don't want anyone to see me go." Newt stood, already dressed in what he thought of as his work clothes (things that worked for riding and getting grubby), and watched Hermann struggle out of bed and put on a robe. "I just wanted to let you know. I didn't want you to wake up with me gone. And, uh." He went to stand in front of Hermann and held his hands out. "Take care of it for me?"

With the utmost care, Hermann took the crown. "I will. Will you come back safe?"

"Of course. This is my mother. You worry too much." He wanted to touch Hermann's cheek, but thought so soon after waking up, he was a little too vulnerable for the gesture. Instead, Newt let his hands linger over Hermann's where they held the crown. "I'll be back as soon as I can. No longer than a week. Take care of yourself, Hermann."

"I will."

If he didn't just walk out, Newt would continue to stall, so with a last smile, he removed his hands from Hermann's, and left the room.

 

"You are a fine young man," his mother said, her voice hoarse with disuse. Her rough hand lingered on his cheek. "I was sorry to hear about your father."

Newt leaned into the touch. "Death is a truth of life."

"Yes, but he was a good man."

With a sigh, Newt took hold of her hand. "Mama, I have a problem and I need your help."

"Is it something to do with your prince?"

He wasn't surprised she knew about Hermann; some of those dragons in the castle could very well be her eyes on him. "Yes. I know this is unusual, but I was wondering if there is a dragon somewhere in the world that would be willing to protect him. I know he hasn't shown the least bit of dragon magic, but those in the castle like him, in spite of his history."

"Don't be so naive, child. They tolerate him for your sake, nothing more."

"No, it's more than that. I can tell. And besides, what does it hurt to ask? How can the wind refuse to carry a question? They can refuse to answer, but it costs nothing to ask." He hadn't thought it would work, but the disappointment was starting to really make itself known by the desperation he was feeling. "Hermann _needs_ to find a bond, for his own safety."

His mother's jewel green eyes regarded him flatly. "His safety or your convenience?"

"His safety," Newt answered, crossing his arms. "You had no desire to rule, to see to the health and happiness of others, but I do. And Hermann does. Father did. _Ask_."

In response, his mother growled. "You don't tell me what to do, boy. You're still an insignificant human, with weak, pink flesh."

"Your flesh." They glared at one another until Newt dropped his arms. "Mama, please. I've never asked you for anything before. Why are you so against this?"

"He doesn't have the magic!" she snapped. "How can you ask this for someone who doesn't have the magic? It's slavery this way!"

Finally, Newt could no longer contain his own fury, charged by his magic just like his mother. "You're letting your silly fears blind you! As if anyone could ever enslave a dragon. What did you think? That Hermann would take it, treat it like a dog and put a collar and chain on it? Do you think so little of me, that I would allow such a thing?"

"Of course not, but-"

"But Hermann would never do such a thing. And everyone knows what he did, but that was when he was under his father's rule." It was fine here, he knew, if his magic got a little loose and escaped his control; his mother wouldn't be offended. Maybe that was the problem, that he was being too even in his argument. There was a time for diplomacy and a time for not thinking things over so much. "He wants to help, he wants to be part of our kingdom, and I'm going to make sure he stays safe and alive."

Just thinking about it, finding Hermann there, raises those feelings again, the shock and fury that fed his magic. The smile that was slowly creeping across his mother's face was not helping either. "He's mine."

That was all he needed to say.

"You'll stay then? Will you manage without your big comfortable bed?"

"I can handle it." He'd practically slept in a chair next to Hermann's bed when he'd been hurt. A bedroll in a cave was no real stretch. After a week, maybe he'd have a different opinion.

"Come with me. We can ask together. It will be more meaningful from you."


	22. Chapter 22

The wind whipped over the jagged rocks, pushing Newt with all its might toward the edge. He had no thick robe to protect him, no hood, no helmet to protect his face from the icy snow stung like needles. Stung like needles, but he felt no discomfort; this was not the time for such petty concerns as he stood next to his mother.

Newt controlled his discomfort; the cold didn't bother him so much, but he preferred the heat. A glance at his mother, he could tell she felt no discomfort at all, had truly left behind the concerns of the world Newt lived in.

When she put her hand on his shoulder, he could feel the cold, the burning cold from the gauntlet she wore, seep through his clothing. "Stand fast," she said, voice almost carried along with the icy crystals in the frigid, gusting air. "Show your strength; there is no such thing as birthright here."

They waited another minute, the shivering getting harder to control. As necessary as this was, Newt longed to be back at the castle, in the warmth and comfort of his own bed. And there was really something there between himself and Hermann finally. He'd have to give Tendo a gift when he back.

"You keep your emotions so close to the surface."

"Yeah, well, just asking because I dared to stand on the top of a mountain and freeze my balls off isn't really going to prove anything, is it?" he replied, agitated by the process. "I'm not here, asking this because I have strength, or lack strength. I'm here because of Hermann, so I'm going to ask on that basis, and maybe it'll be the emotion that they reject or embrace. If I don't do it like this, it'll be a lie."

His mother smiled, her green eyes reflected in his own, long lashes catching the snow even as her long hair whipped out of her hood and around her face. "You are certainly your father's son. And that is a good thing."

If Newt were younger, in this moment, he might have looked at her and seen a hero. A warrior, conquering a mountain and the conditions, standing strong. He might have seen someone to emulate, a person that could protect a kingdom with merely their presence. But he wasn't a child; he'd seen just enough of the terrible things that men did to one another for their own greed and fear; he'd seen how life was as fragile as a bird's egg.

This was just his mother. She could never live in a castle and sleep in a bed, dine from a plate and use a fork; she'd never eat a corn cake with fruit. She'd never be lonely for someone to talk to; she'd never seek that connection with another person. She'd had a child, but not because of love.

Maybe it had been destiny.

Hermann would laugh at that. Or maybe not laugh, but he'd sneer.

So desperately Newt wanted to be home again. "I'm doing this for Hermann," he yelled to be heard above the wind. I don't care about the kingdoms, or what frightened children they are in the south. I don't need a dragon to level a village."

The wind picked up to the point Newt had to duck his head and crowd against his mother.

"And maybe they'll listen," she said simply as the wind dropped to a point it barely ruffled her hair. "You know they don't understand why this means so much to you."

Newt looked up at the lightened sky and watched the dark shapes fly off. They'd been there all along; he and his mother hadn't been waiting on them at all.

"We should eat, and you can tell me about your prince that you would risk so much for."

The fire, when they returned to the cave, was a welcome warmth. Even still, Newt wrapped a heavy fur around his shoulders and shivered. "So what do you want to know?"

His mother actually removed the hood and mantle she'd been wearing, leaving her in her rough shirt and scaled breastplate, and headband affixed with horns. "I want to know everything you have to tell. If someone can inspire such determination in you, there must be something there, even if he doesn't have magic."

To his mother, if it wasn't dragon magic, it wasn't magic at all, which was ridiculous. "No, Mama, he has magic. And it's _powerful_ , like nothing I've ever seen before. He can see the future."

"A trick. I've seen-"

"No! He has numbers, and they show him what will happen. And he reads the stars more thoroughly than any navigator." Newt frowned in frustration at the mild look of dismissal she was giving him. "Just because it's not dragon magic doesn't mean it's false! The little ones took to him. His quill, it's from-"

But she shook her head. "It's all circumstance. It means nothing."

"Then why did you ask? I get it, how useless and weak people are, but you know I don't feel that way. Hermann and I are going to rule, and nothing you say is going to change that. If you don't approve, then I'm sorry." It was an insult, and Newt knew the friction that often occurred between a parent and child, but he'd never experienced it before.

And now he was getting choked up at her lack of faith in him. "Why don't you trust m-me?" Her acceptance of Hermann was so important to him that it came as a surprise. His relationship with his mother was not close, mostly due to her refusal to live at the castle, but Newt had never lost his desire for her approval, for the connection he'd had with his father.

"No, love, don't cry. I do trust you."

Her warmth, the smell of outdoors and cold air and smoke surrounded him as she hugged him. Newt hadn't been hugged since before his father had died, and it was something he hadn't realized he'd missed so much.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked, rocking him gently. "If you want me to say your prince is a good man and you'll be a good king with him, then I'll say it."

"I want you to trust me. I want you to believe me. I know I don't mean that much to you, but I-"

"No! How could my only child not mean anything to me? When you're older, you'll understand everything. You stand between two worlds, and I… don't. Your prince doesn't. _You_ are the only one that can find the balance you need." She carded her fingers through his hair and continued to rock him.

She kissed the top of his head. "One will answer. Just for you, one will answer."

 

"Hey there."

Hermann jumped in his chair. "Newt! I mean, your majesty!"

Newt grinned. "It's just Tendo. Don't worry about it. How did things go? Did you miss me?"

"It was very strange without you here, I admit."

"So you did miss me." He certainly didn't want to throw it in Hermann's face, but Newt was certainly pleased to see the feeling was mutual. "Here, come on. I've been too long cooped up in a cave. I want to show you something."

"Of course. Just let me…" Hermann cleaned his things up, ignored the wink from Tendo, and followed Newt from the library.

"Can you ride? A horse."

"Naturally."

"Good. I think you're really gonna like it. And it's a good excuse for me to get out there too."

"Wha-"

"Nope. You'll find out when we get there. It's not far, just past the edge of the trees."

Newt stopped suddenly, stumbled when Hermann bumped into him, and turned. "I didn't ask!" He took hold of Hermann's elbow to stop him from back away. "How are you? How's your wound? You're up and around, obviously, but really, how do you feel?"

"Well. Still pain sometimes, but overall fine. Isn't there some kind of business you should attend to now that you're back?"

With a shrug, Newt took hold of Hermann's wrist and pulled him along a slightly faster pace than before. "I am. You'd be a very good king, so worried about all the little annoying things that need to get done. Hermann, this is why I have advisors, and generals, and servants: so I don't have to worry about that stuff all day, every day. But don't worry. Eventually I'll have work I can foist off on you too."

"Me? But I couldn't- No one would ever- I'm just-"

"The prince-consort. If I appoint you head cook, no matter how ill-advised it might be, people would accept it. Eventually I'll get you to actually believe that. Here."

The horse stable were separate from the dragon stables, larger if only for the number of animals and not the size. The stable master was there, working with a pair of stable hands to groom two horses. "Your majesty!" he said and bowed clumsily where he was holding the halter of a large chestnut stallion.

"Ah, someone's been out?"

"General Pentecost and little Mako, your majesty."

Life during a time of peace and prosperity was a little heart-melting, and Newt smiled. Then he noticed the stable master staring at him. The stable hands were doing the same. When he looked at Hermann, _he_ looked irked. "What?"

Hermann leaned in close. "Your crown, your majesty."

"Oh shit." He'd gone straight from landing to see Hermann in the library and had forgotten all about it. Clearing his voice and adjust his very un-regal clothing, Newt nodded. "Yes, well. We need two horses, sir."

End of conversation. They might talk about it later, but it certainly was of no concern.

"Of course, your majesty. But they've not been warmed up."

"We're not going far. We can walk them. Go on. Two nice ones. I don't need a feisty charger or anything."

The stable master bowed again. "Yes, your majesty." The man swatted the nearest stable hand. "Get Sigmund ready." He looked briefly at Hermann. "I'll get Algar."

While they waited, Newt continued to brush the abandoned horse. "I started with the horses when I was four. Not all the riders do, but my father insisted I be familiar with the responsibility of taking care of an animal. To learn they're not things, but living creatures, just like each of us."

"I rode, not frequently, but never had anything to do with the care of the animals."

"It's strangely satisfying for being hard, smelly work." He was quiet for a long moment, just letting the rhythm of the motion and the sound relax him. "My mother wanted to know all about you," Newt said quietly. "She was impressed by my devotion to you." He smiled at the thought, but didn't dare look at Hermann.

"Will I ever meet her?"

That was the signal that he hadn't overstepped anything, and Newt looked around the horse's neck at Hermann. "Maybe. She does what she will. I was raised on that mountain, you know? Even when I was a baby, she wouldn't come to the castle to take care of me."

"So the cold stunted your growth."

Silence, though on Newt's part it was pure disbelief. He laughed suddenly, loudly, and could see the subtle tension leave Hermann. "Maybe it did. But you don't need to be tall when you've got a dragon behind you."

"Your majesty, they're ready."

The moment wasn't forgotten, not for Newt, because he was sure now that his absence hadn't affected their relationship negatively. "Excellent. Hermann, shall we go for our ride?"

Hermann bowed his head, just turned to the side so that he looked like a watchful bird. "Of course, your majesty."

***

"My mother suggested I sit side-saddle. I would do nothing of the sort!"

"A chariot. That's what you needed."

"That is utterly absurd."

"More absurd than you sitting side-saddle? Besides, you could decorate it to look all fierce and imposing. Everyone knows a man in a chariot is both impressive and the one in charge." Newt grinned at him.

With his lips pinched to prevent himself from smiling and ruining their friendly argument, Hermann shook his head. "If that's true, my father certainly would have never allowed it then." Though it was an interesting thought, instead of suffering the pain of riding and eventually abandoning it, the humiliation of riding side-saddle, or the boredom of a carriage, the picture of himself in a chariot with his robes flowing grandly behind him…

It was something else to add to his pile of daydreams.

"So I know you haven't been into the woods here. For the future, if should ever want to, and you don't have to take me if you don't want to, there are markers deeper in that only experienced hunters should pass."

They were close to the line of trees now, moving at a leisurely pace , the horses approaching it without hesitation.

"And why is that?" Cutting through the image of himself on a chariot as if it were smoke was a picture of a black wall with endless horrendous dragons pressed against the other side, waiting to break through.

"Wolves, that probably wouldn't attack people, but you don't want to take that chance. And this might sound silly, but the boar are mean and aggressive, and they absolutely can kill a person."

"Boar?" The only boar Hermann had ever seen was what was served on his plate at meals. He'd seen plenty of hogs, and while they were large animals, he certainly wasn't afraid of them. "A wild pig can kill a person? You mean like a child. Crushing it."

"No, I mean a man. They'll charge, and they're fast, and once you're on the ground, they will attack like any other predator." Newt shivered a little in his saddle. "Never seen anyone get killed, but I did go out hunting. Saw one in a trap; it broke its own leg trying to charge us."

So the woods were out.

"And the _vielfrass_ , though those are pretty rare, but their fur is very useful for cold weather."

"And I suppose those are vicious killers as well." And to think Hermann had been so concerned with dragons whent here was so much ordinary wildlife to worry about.

"Pretty much. But like I said, this far south they're pretty rare. You would have definitely not seen one in your kingdom."

"Newt."

"Hm?"

This was strangely difficult to say, even though he'd been thinking it on and off for a some time. "I don't think… That is." Hermann swallowed. He wasn't nervous or scared, it was just something he wasn't entirely used to yet. "It's been six months. This is my kingdom now." That skirted the issue of where his home was well enough for the time being. Maybe once He was more comfortable with the idea of this being his kingdom, home would follow. But it was a little frightening too, because _his kingdom_ meant something completely different now.

It wasn't his kingdom, the place where he was born and lived. It was his kingdom, the place he watched over in a seat of power (because Newt would force it on him, he knew, now matter how much he protested). "I think if I'm to gain the respect of people, there can't be 'my kingdom in the south' or 'my home in the south'." There it was, just blurted out, and it wasn't as painful as the thought of it. "This is my kingdom. This is my home."

Even if it felt strange and scary and a little traitorous to say, Hermann knew it was the truth. No way would he ever go back to live under his father's rule. Going back to live there would have to involve imprisonment as far as he was concerned.

Hermann paused, let his mind go blank other than that specific thought. Imprisoned by his father. Not even a sleepy twinge of 'what might be' anxiety. Nothing in his future for that possibility. The smile, in response to Newt's, came easily then.

"OK then. You wouldn't find them so far south. Can you manage a trot? I think the horses are warmed up enough."

With Hermann's nod, Newt immediately spurred his horse on. No coaxing was necessary; Hermann's own horse followed right along. It had been so long since he'd ridden for his own pleasure, and the trot had been so unexpected, he found himself hanging on for dear life and laughing himself breathless.

It was only when they reached the shade of the tress, passing between the first tall, slender trunks, that Newt slowed. "Can you hear it?"

Birdsong. "Water?"

"Yep. In the summer, this is a very popular spot for people in the castle with some free time. Don't worry, it's not far. The most threatening thing you'll see here is maybe a hawk."

It wasn't far, only a few more minutes winding between the trees before they reached little more than a rushing creek pouring down a stone-stepped embankment into a clear pond. The water continued on at a much more sedate pace into the forest.

"The water's a little chilly," Newt warned. "But I always find it a little refreshing." Newt was off his horse, tying it loosely to a tree within reach of the flowing water, and then was quickly removing his clothing. He paused when he noted Hermann hadn't moved. "Well come on. Don't be shy now."

Hermann just watched, stunned and mesmerized, as Newt stripped down to nothing and jumped in the water. Certainly, he couldn't just sit there and watch, so Hermann got slowly from his horse, feeling the protest in his hip and leg, and tied it up. The only way he could describe Newt in the water, as he slowly disrobed, was frolicking. When Hermann was down to just his breechcloth, he debated removing it, as Newt had, or wearing it to maintain a shred of modesty.

But the thought of wearing it wet and sticking to his skin and cold on the ride back was unappealing. That decided it.

"You do a lot of swimming before?"

That was now the code for 'in the South' or 'at the previous place you lived', and felt much better on his conscience. "No. A little when I was younger."

Newt was lounging against the opposite bank, using a large rock to keep his chest above the water. "Just jump in. You dunk a toe in first, you'll never convince yourself to go in the rest of the way."

All or nothing. Right on par with the way his life going at the moment. Hermann took a deep breath and jumped. The air was sucked from his lungs by the shock of cold, and he burst from the water gasping and floundering to tread water. "Mother of pearl! That's frigid!" And it was, colder than anything he'd ever immersed his naked body in, but Hermann found that he could just touch the bottom with his toes, and he was quickly adapting to the temperature of the water. A few moments of deep breathing, and he was doing all right.

He couldn't help but laugh when Newt swam over to him, doing a clumsy dog paddle with a frog-style kick. "Can you not swim?"

"I'm swimming now!" He was forced to tread water as he couldn't touch the bottom without submerging himself. "But you know what's best, like right now when the sun's overhead?" He visibly relaxed and let himself float and exposing himself at the surface.

Hermann blushed and looked away quickly, then looked back. The trees let a majority of the sunlight through, dappling Newt's skin. "Newt?"

His green eyes were closed as he floated, lazily moving his arms so he traveled in slow circles. "Hm?"

"May I touch you?" Hermann asked in a whisper.

Newt's eyes snapped open, and he flailed his arms to find his buoyancy.

That was a mistake. Hermann had decided to take a chance, and it hadn't worked out. His only hope was that he wouldn't be too humiliated, but with Newt paddling toward the shore, it didn't seem that was a likely thing either. And he'd been enjoying the water, the way it allowed him to remove the weight from his leg.

"Hermann, come here."

Feeling the shame of humiliation in the burn of his cheeks and the pressure in his chest, he walked toward Newt, first on his toes, then the balls of his feet, then heel-toe. The water stayed somewhat deep, well above his waist, as he stood, looking anywhere except his husband.

"I thought it would be easier here, where I can touch the bottom." He smiled, small, and somehow both hesitant and encouraging.

The invitation, implied as it was, but could be read clearly in that smile, opened the door to Hermann's courage. There was nothing to compare this moment to, no firsts that fell in line with this. Perhaps, as he reached out and touched Newt's arm, it was like the first time he'd used magic.

The flesh was soft, but the muscle beneath firm. He was able to ignore the dragons crawling up his arms by staring at the rise and fall of Newt's chest, the hair slicked down, nipples taut and pink. He couldn't resist, so Hermann put his hand flat over the place Newt's heart resided, felt the rhythmic pounding, speeding up and his own answering.

Newt's lower body was starting to float, and with it, breaking the surface was the head of his erection.

Unsure of what to do, Hermann's hand stilled, and he looked away. It was too much, too rude. He just couldn't, even though his face was hot and his stomach was twisting with the unfamiliar strength of his desire.

Without speaking, making no noise at all, Newt covered Hermann's hand with his own and started to drag it lower.

That was fine; Hermann was OK with letting Newt take the lead in such a way. Once this hurdle was passed, then surely things had to become easier. He looked at Newt's face, and those green eyes were so intense, looking straight at him, unblinking, that Hermann had to look away.

His eyes were drawn to the opposite bank of the pond, the spot where Newt had been lounging originally, and there, sitting on the rocks, was a small silver dragon. "Newt!" Hermann snapped, and jerked his hand away. "A dragon!"


	23. Chapter 23

Newt groaned and opened his eyes. "The timing. _Perfect_."

"What are you talking about? Where did that come from?"

"When a mother dragon and a father dragon love each other very much-"

"What is happening!?"

Hermann was on the verge of panic, so Newt put his hand on the other man's shoulder. "It's fine, Hermann. I invited it. That was why I went to see my mother." He looked over the dragon, simply observing them at distance, and smiled.

It had a bright silvery skin that, when hit perfectly with sunlight, shimmered with many colors. It was small, which was a little baffling, and other than the color, it looked completely unthreatening. The body type was fairly unique, for a dragon, though, and Newt waved it over.

"What are you doing?" Hermann hissed, his body rigid and eyes wide. "It might be dangerous!"

"It's not. Relax. See, it's just curious."

The small beast spread its wings, more wide than Newt was tall, crossed over to him, landing gracefully on the grass behind Newt's head. It leaned down and sniffed him, its breath holding no trace of heat or smell of sulphur, then sat back on its haunches.

"It's cute, isn't it?" Newt turned around so he could reach to touch the small frills on the underside of its neck. "Never seen one like it before."

"What is it doing here then?" It was readily apparent that if Hermann moved an inch, it would be run straight to his horse and gallop back to the castle fully nude.

Newt smirked, and the dragon tilted its head to the side. "I'll just ask it." Though he was almost sure he knew why it was there anyway, he'd take the opportunity to have a little chat. _"Hello, little one."_

The half-lidded orange eyes looked from Newt to Hermann. _"This is him? He doesn't look like much."_

Really, Newt should have known such a request would draw an intelligent one. As small as this dragon was, it was not a juvenile, and it would not respond to his sweet-talk. _"No, he's a scholar first. He prefers his time in the library."_

The dragon snorted, ruffling Newt's hair. _"He looks terrified."_

_"I didn't tell him you were coming. That_ is _why you're here, isn't it?"_

_"I was curious at what could possibly make the Dragon King beg for help."_

_"Well, it wasn't really begging. Hermann's magic-"_

_"Is that what you call him?"_

"That's his name, yes. Look, are you normally this grouchy or is it just some tough guy act? Because it's really not necessary." It usually wasn't a good idea to get quite so contrary with a dragon, but this was a favor asked; if this little dragon had no interest in doing it, it didn't have to. "If you don't like him, or me, or this place then you can leave. No one's enslaving you and forcing you to be here."

The dragon stretched its wings wide and flapped them. _"I didn't say I didn't like anything. Are you always so quick to jump to conclusions?"_

Newt held his hand out, without thinking, and watched the dragon nudge his fingers with its stubby snout. _"Hermann's had a bad time here, and I'm trying to make it better for him. And before that, his father forced him to kill a dragon. It nearly killed him, so he's a bit skittish."_

Turning its attention to Hermann, the dragon roared, though it sounded more like an angry cat than a proper dragon.

Hermann flinched while Newt grinned.

_"How could he kill a dragon? He is a mouse."_

Newt looked to Hermann. "Get over here. Don't be afraid; this one's all bark and no bite. Doesn't believe you killed a dragon. I said you preferred the library and were a scholar, but this one's feisty. You're going to have to prove yourself." To convince him (because Newt knew this would), he held out his hand

Slowly, eyes never leaving the dragon so that the two were eyeing one another, Hermann approached Newt. When their hands came together, Newt turned them so that their fingers intertwined. "How can I convince it of anything? I can't speak to it. I have no evidence of what I've done except my physical deformities."

"First," Newt said sternly as he squeezed Hermann's hand, "they're not deformities. They're injuries. And second, hey, look at me; that little thing won't hurt you. Second, you don't have to convince anyone that you did something you're not proud of. And you don't have to prove yourself."

"But you-"

"But nothing. Come on, we can go back now. This isn't the right one." He turned away from the dragon to lead Hermann to a different spot that they could climb out of the water.

_"Where are you going? You can't walk away from me!"_

_"Hermann can't understand you, but I can, and I don't want to be around your horrible attitude. It's a favor I asked, not your undying loyalty."_ He knew he couldn't hurry Hermann, not in the water with uneven footing, but Newt definitely wanted to get away from the dragon as quickly as possible. "One of the little ones at the castle will do. Don't worry about it."

"Little what? What are you talking about?"

The dragon landed on the bank in front of them and stood on its hind feet, wings open wide. _"I understand some of your limited speech. Little ones? You think one of your pet whelps can take my place?"_

"You can? That's really interesting. Honestly, I'd love it if you stayed, but I don't need you. You're so small. What could you do to protect Hermann?"

It was interesting. Newt had never seen an angry dragon. It was just something that having dragon magic had never exposed him to. Though he guessed not many people saw an angry dragon and lived to describe it. So when the little dragon in front of them (scales shining blue and purple in the sunlight filtering through the tree) creased its scaled brow and flared its nostrils, Newt thought it was interesting, and tightened his grip on Hermann's hand to prevent him from running.

When the little dragon in front of them, smaller than Mako when all was said and done, suddenly grew so that its head was up in the trees, Newt was impressed, and knew what it was like to be frightened of a dragon. _"You threaten me?"_ he asked, the language coming purely on instinct.

_"You insulted me."_

_"And you insulted the Prince of Dragons. And now look, he's fainted."_

***

"Hermann?"

Slowly, Hermann opened his eyes to find he had a very nice view of the leaves overhead swaying in the wind.

"Oh good. How's your head? Did you hit it when you fell?"

That explained the trees. "I have a rock stabbing me in my buttock."

The smile of relief on Newt's face was not quite blinding, but enough so that it took effort not to smile back. "Can you sit up? Do you _want_ to sit up? I hope you don't mind I dragged you upon the grass like this. Leaving you in the water didn't seem polite."

"No, it's fine." With effort, lessened after Newt started to support his back, Hermann sat up, shifted to get the rock out from under him and looked around. The dragon, small this time, was still there, still watching. "Did I see…?"

"Sure did. Pretty amazing, wasn't it? I've never seen a dragon do that before."

"What? Almost kill you?" Without thinking it over too deeply, Hermann noted Newt was half dressed, while he himself only had his robe covering him. No thinking, but now observing Newt in just his oiled leather trousers, no boots and no shirt or jacket, and even with the dragon there, he couldn't stop his mind from recounting what his skin had felt like. In that moment, the dragon didn't matter any longer. "I'd like to go back to the castle now." Newt's hand was still on his back.

"The dragon won't hurt you."

"It has nothing to do with the dragon." Hermann gripped his robe, twisting it absently, as he looked at his bare feet poking out from underneath. "I appreciate you bringing me here, but I really need to return." His modesty was fragile at best, worn almost through by those simple touches and Newt's willingness to indulge. No, he needed to get away from this solitude before he did something embarrassing.

"Of course, sure." Newt stood. "I'll just finish getting dressed here."

It was a view Hermann didn't mind in the least, but if he spent all his time looking and not dressing, he'd end up still sitting on the ground naked. And there was the matter of the dragon watching him. "Newt, is this dragon…?"

"Seriously, it won't hurt you. It's intelligent, and came here of its own free will. Just go about your business, the best you can. I'm pretty sure it'll try to intimidate you, but don't be _scared_."

Easy enough for him to say, but also completely confident that there was no physical ill-well intended. With a deep breath, Hermann decided to trust him, a larger feat than anything previously. The dragon watched him, and he could _feel_ that, as he went to his discarded clothing and started dressing.

The beast hissed in a way that meant it was actually speaking to Newt, low, sibilant, drawn out sounds, and throaty grunts. Those noises in a darkened cave would be anyone's worst nightmare, but in this case Newt spoke back. When he did it, there was a completely different quality to it, which made sense, but it was so odd to hear.

It reminded Hermann of the time visitors from far in the east showed up, and while they spoke his language, their accent was so strong, he still had trouble understanding them.

"It's impressed by your scars."

"That makes one." He turned once he had his trousers on and took a startled step back to find the dragon standing right there in front of him. It was small once more, so its nose was right at his groin. "That's a little rude, don't you think? I don't go putting my hands around your…" Hermann gestured, and it seemed to work; the dragon stepped back. There was no controlling his nerves, but he refused to be terrorized at this point, so acted as nonchalant as he could.

First his shirt, then thick jacket over it, all the while being closely observed. When Hermann swung his robe around his shoulders, he asked, "Does this mean you're staying? I really don't care to be eyed so intently." He chanced to look at Newt, a shiver passing from head to toe through as he remembered the way his green eyes were so fervent.

Any concern about this dragon was forgotten as the urgency to return to the castle increased. Hermann wasn't sure what he was going to do once he got back, perhaps shut himself away and- "Newt, please." Hoisting himself into the saddle sent uncomfortable bolts of pain through his hip, but he was more than ready to leave. Newt seemed to be dragging his feet, taking his time as he got his horse ready.

"What the hell? You're acting like your ass is on fire."

Hardly anything of the kind; his cock was straining impressively though, and that was thoroughly uncomfortable. "Will it follow?" Hermann asked, ignoring the question.

Newt was finally on his horse. "I think so. Does that bother you?"

"Mildly. Probably no more than if it had been any stranger following me." That constant feeling of being watched, any slip-up, personal moment, having to remove trousers from where they'd become uncomfortably wedged, there was someone there to witness it. Humiliation came before danger in his concern. His priorities were in a slight state of confusement.

As newt got his horse moving, Hermann urged it to a trot until they broke into the clear, then into a gallop to the castle.

 

"Newt."

"Yeah?"

"Why did that dragon come here? Why did it find us?"

In the low light of the fading fire, Hermann could see Newt turn to his side on the other half of the bed. "I asked for one to come. That was the one that showed up."

"But why did you ask it come? Why did it care so much about me?" Perhaps care was the wrong word to use, but it there had been interest.

It took a long time for Newt to answer, with just the soft crackling and Hermann's own breathing filling the silence. "To look after you. Because I couldn't stand it if someone hurt you again, or worse."

"So a bodyguard when your guards failed."

"Hermann there is no way in hell any assassin can get you, or even a rude guy shove you with a dragon watching your back."

There is no conversation he would like to be having less in this moment than debating this dragon. Not with the way the dim light made Newt's eyes look so mysterious, almost luminous, and Hermann fully aware of both of their lack of clothing. Talking in general is not something he wanted to do at the moment. "I suppose there's nothing to do but accept it."

"Yeah, sorry. Honestly, you won't even notice it."

And they were still talking about it, and it was a horrible waste of time, but there was just something in him that wouldn't let it go. "I just find it odd. Are you always followed by a dragon?"

"No. I don't need it. And you've seen them; there are more around, but this one is all for you." Newt watched him for a long moment. "Hey."

"Hm?" His eyes had closed without him even noticing. When Hermann opened them, Newt had his hand extended. Blinking slowly, his eyes wanting desperately to close, Hermann put his hand in Newt's.

"Good night."

"Good night."

 

The dragon was there to stay, apparently. Whatever Newt had said to it, whatever it saw in Hermann, whatever it found in the castle it approved of. It was then a near-constant presence around Hermann, though was an expert in disappearing when there were others, or when it would be inconvenient to have a dragon following him.

The library was the most mysterious place, gone before Hermann entered, then would show up near his feet with Master Choi completely oblivious. It became a serious thought that perhaps he should move into a study room, where no one would see the dragon, and then it wouldn't be sitting on his foot the entire time.

After lunch, he found himself on the top of the flat tower with his dragon right there. It hadn't been there at lunch, it hadn't been there on his walk up here, and here it was. Whether this accomplished anything, at least there would be no one to witness it.

"Newt tells me you understand some of what I'm saying. Is that true?"

The dragon sat on its muscular haunches and looked at him.

"What is your true size? I know this isn't it. How big can you get?"

Hermann wasn't sure what he'd been expecting by asking such a thing, as if the dragon would tell him in human measurements. He definitely wasn't expecting the dragon to stand, scales glimmering beautifully in the sun like a metallic rainbow, and grow instantly to a monstrous size. This was larger than Newt's dragon, and somehow more intimidating because of its unique shape.

It read less as a dragon and more simply as a top level predator, able to tear a human in half with ease. It wasn't as large as the dragon he'd faced, but it wasn't built the same way, without the long neck, or tail that was half as long as its body. This kingdom, the castle, Newt was getting to him, because he couldn't deny that it was a magnificent looking creature. And when it spread its wings, it was like the doors to a treasure vault opening.

The membrane was a flat, almost bronze color, except where the sun touched it and made it sparkle like diamonds. It was hard to believe this was a living creature, of flesh and blood, and not a statue given life.

" _Schatzräuber_." Hermann had no idea why he'd said it; just the thought that this was a creature of wealth, true treasure, and certainly shouldn't be following him to the library of all things, while he read old books and doodled useless numbers on paper. "You don't belong here. There are grander things in the world for you."

As if it understood every word he'd said, it stretched its wings further and tilted its head head up, preening almost.

"You shouldn't stay here, not for my sake. Not for Newt's sake." Hermann held out his hand, putting firmly out of his mind the last time he'd faced a creature this large. "I won't hold you here. Leave if it suits you; I must be a bore." Hopefully he wasn't too boring for Newt, the way he always seemed to react negatively or refuse Newt's suggestions, never seemed to enjoy himself. How long would Newt endure him and his sour attitude?

How long could he endure it himself?

The dragon approached his hand, mouth open and showing thick, yellowing fangs and blue tongue. It could swallow his arm without thinking twice, but it just nosed his hand, then let its tongue swipe across his wrist. If it was a goodbye or an indication of acceptance, then that was fine. It was clearly _not_ hostile, and Hermann actually smiled a little. "This would be easier if I could talk to you properly. Perhaps then I could learn your secrets of stealth, how you come and go so easily that nobody seems to notice."

It all happened in the blink of an eye, so quickly that Hermann had a hard time believing it he'd seen it: the dragon was there, then it was knee-high, then it was even smaller. The kitten-sized dragon pranced around in a circle, then disappeared completely.

"A marvel." Surely if Newt had never seen such a thing, this was a unique experience, a singular thing to remember in his lifetime. A weight settled on his shoulder, and when he looked, the tiny dragon was there, completely visible. "Amazing. It's an odd feeling, but I would be interested in seeing you stay."

A thought popped into his head, and it was not a pleasant one. "Are you spying on me in the bath or bedroom? Ah, I suppose things like that happen, just don't go talking to Newt about it." They each had things they didn't share with one another, and a mutinous voice in the back of his mind whispered, _not yet_.

These were thoughts he desperately needed to get under control; it just wouldn't do to have them constantly intruding on his regular daily habits. "Do you know what it's like to feel something you never asked for and won't leave you alone?"

Tiny claws penetrated his clothing across the back of his neck and opposite shoulder. The dragon roared in his ear, sounding very much like an insistent kitten at such a small size.

"If you insist on telling him everything, I don't know that it even matters. I haven't been able to keep my own feelings hidden, like a lovesick fool. I think maybe I _am_ a lovesick fool." Hermann reached up and ran his finger down the dragon's back. "Heed my words, _schatzräuber_ , never go to the south. The king is hateful and uninterested in learning before killing."

Much to his surprise, the creature nuzzled his ear.

"If we allow ourselves to do so, we can get along. Won't Newt be surprised?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Schatzräuber = treasure bandit :)
> 
> And from the previous part (that I forgot to note):  
> vielfrass = wolverine


	24. Chapter 24

"We can start on Dörthe. She won't mind."

This was beyond Hermann's wildest imagination. Even when he'd arrived, knowing how closely tied to dragons the kingdom was, the idea that he'd ever be riding a dragon had been preposterous. "Are you sure? I don't want to anger her."

"I'll be right there; she won't run off with you on her back or anything."

Once again, Hermann was left to trust Newt in this matter.

"I put a lot of work into the saddle, to make sure it's safe not matter what the dragon's doing." Newt grinned. "Except upside down. Once, and only once."

"There is no concern of me ever doing that." The saddle, unlike the ones he'd seen the children used, looked like some kind of torture contraption. The only thing he could actually pick out was where he was supposed to sit, and everything else was a mysterious attachment. "What do I even do?"

Newt made it look easy in demonstration. He simply grabbed on to a metal handle incorporated into the leather saddle, put his foot in the stirrup, and pulled himself up. "Just like a horse. Just make sure you tuck your feet in all the way, hold on to these, and you're ready to go."

"But… the reins. How do you control her? How do you indicate where you want her to go?" This was very clearly not like a horse at all. "And how do you stay in the saddle in the air?" In this situation, Hermann couldn't even believe the silence of his magic; he was positive he'd tumble out and plummet to his death.

But Newt had been riding dragons for well over half his life, and knew all the intricacies of it. "Dragons are smarter than horses, at least the ones we ride, and definitely Dörthe and your buddy. You just push and pull these handles; they exert pressure that the dragon feels. Hold on to these, if you need to, and steer with your forearms."

Watching Newt's demonstration, it looked easy enough, but that was while on the ground and sitting still. How could Hermann be anything but doubtful that this was something he could ever do?

"I see you panicking from here. Seriously, it's like a horse. Bet you thought it was impossible to ride a horse at full speed when you first started learning, didn't you?" Newt slid off the saddle far more inelegantly than he got himself into it. "Come on, I'll help. I'll be right here."

And he wouldn't stop being encouraging until Hermann gave in, because that's how Newt was. With a deep breath first, Hermann approached the dragon. "Hello, Dörthe. I know we didn't have a very good initial meeting; I hope you don't hold it against me."

"Do you-" Newt's hands were out, as if he thought Hermann a child.

"No, I want to do this on my own." He did everything as Newt had done, and the only trouble he had was in throwing his right leg over. His hip protested mightily, almost making him abort the effort, but he continued through the movement anyway. Once seated, leg not stretched so much, it felt all right, though he wasn't sure if he could maintain the position for an extended amount of time. "Is there such a thing as a dragon chariot?" He asked, shifting back and forth to continue to work out the stiffness.

Newt laughed and patted his leg. "Can't say there is. And the saddle's not designed to fit you since you're taller than me, and this isn't your dragon, so-"

"So you put me in the possible situation to learn this." But aside from his hip, it wasn't bad at all. It did indeed feel very much like a horse other than the lack of traditional reins.

"Yeah, maybe." To hide his embarrassment (though the blush was unmistakable), Newt coughed and turned away. "Do you want to try walking?"

Hermann's hands gripped the metal loops, and if he'd not been wearing gloves, he was sure his knuckles would be white. "Yes."

"I'll lead her. If you need to stop, just yell."

"I'm sure you'll hear it." And it really did remind him of the first time he'd ridden a horse, the unfamiliar movement, the way his body moved with the creature. With his feet locked into the stirrups to brace himself and his grip on the loops, and the supports at his back and coming up .to his stomach, Hermann felt very secure.

"Doing good?"

They'd made one slow circle. "Yes. Could you go a little faster?"

Hermann should have known better than to ask such a thing. In an instant, he knew what it was like to hold on for dear life while on the back of a dragon he had no control of. It was his first instinct, as if it were a horse, to pull back, but that had a very different effect on a dragon. Hermann could feel the muscles beneath the saddle and against his legs tense, and thought faintly, _oh no_.

The wings unfolded with a snap, and for a heart-stopping moment, Hermann felt the dragon leave the ground. This was bad.

"Dörthe! No! Hermann, push forward! Dörthe!"

It was possible his panic prevented the dragon from going any higher than just her front legs leaving the ground. Hermann didn't move at all, allowing Newt to talk the dragon back down to the ground.

"Shit, Hermann! Are you okay? Here, let me help you down."

The next few minutes were a haze that Hermann acted through automatically until his feet were firmly on solid ground and Newt was holding firmly to his arm.

"Hermann! Hermann!"

Very slowly he blinked at Newt, who looked utterly terrified. "That was… very concerning"

"I totally agree. I'm sorry; I should have had better control. I should have been using a loop. That, honestly, might have made me piss myself a little."

The admission made Hermann smile just slightly. "Did you?"

The answer was slow in coming. "Yeah."

"Perhaps we should go back inside then so you can clean yourself up." His mind and body aren't quite back together after what he's just experienced, but the feel of the solid earth under his feet is helping, along with Newt's hand still on his arm.

"You sure you're fine?" Newt asked, staring at him intently.

Hermann nodded, and even managed a small smile. "Feet firmly on the ground."

 

Once Newt had removed all the gear from Dörthe and sent her off (after some encouraging whispers), they returned to the stables. By then, Hermann felt perfectly calm, and could look back on the harrowing experience with an analytical eye. "Would Schatz have talked Dörthe down if she'd flown off with me?"

"Maybe. Probably? Depends on how much trouble you looked like you were in. But she's a really gentle flier, and I don't think you would have been in any _real_ trouble as long as you held on."

"No real trouble. I wonder, King of Dragons, what you would consider real trouble."

Newt skipped ahead of him before turning to walk backwards as he spoke. "Well maybe, as Prince of Dragons, I should show you. What do you think of that?"

Hermann snorted. "I do trust you, Newt, in many things, but _that_ is not one of them. I'm afraid I'll have to pass. This time."

"This time. Oh have I got something to show you. Eventually." Newt frowned suddenly and tugged at the crotch of his trousers. "I really need to get out of these."

"Go, go. I can manage. And you're already starting to smell like piss."

With the frown instantly transforming to a radiant smile, Newt grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it. "I'll see you at dinner!" He ran off, his steps echoing off the stone walls.

Hermann looked down at his hand, still slightly moist from the sloppy press of Newt's lips, and smiled.

 

Two days and still no news of his impending death, so Hermann decided to give it another shot. He wasn't sure why, but it felt like this was something important, to actually ride a dragon. Yes, Newt had assured him it wasn't at all necessary, but it just didn't feel _right_ otherwise. What kind of Prince of Dragons couldn't ride a dragon? How could anyone respect him? But a bigger question, because he was determined to succeed in this endeavor, was whether or not Schatz would actually agree to carry Hermann.

Schatz was his invisible shadow, indicating his presence most times by just brushing against Hermann's robes, but that was very different from letting a human strap a saddle on.

"What's wrong? You look worried," Newt said as he slipped his boots on. "Did you see something?"

"No, I'm merely concerned…" Hermann sighed. "Has there been such a thing as a dragon that is a… companion, and one that is used for riding? By the same person."

"Besides a dragon moving on and the rider finding a new one? I don't think so. Why?" Newt put his coat on, tying the laces first, and then doing up the buckles.

It was the pale gray coat this time, and Hermann picked out his own smoke gray vest. "I'm worried Schatz won't ever be receptive to such treatment. You said it's the smartest dragon you've encountered-"

"That's not what I said," Newt corrected him quickly. "It's a smart one, but not the smartest. Don't you want a coat?"

"Even so, Schatz is smart enough to know what a saddle means, and smart enough to not want some fragile human on its back. And no." Hermann straightened his sleeves and tugged the collar to open it a little wider at his throat. "I feel this will be better, give me more freedom of movement for my arms and shoulders."

Newt shrugged. "Whatever works for you. But hey, maybe we should just ask Schatzi about it."

" _Schatz_ , not Schatzi. And… what if it refuses? What if I'm never able to find a dragon of my own to ride?"

"Hermann, I told you that it's not impo-"

"It is the _most_ important thing! Perhaps, before you asked Schatz here, and I remained weak and perpetually frightened for my life, it wouldn't have mattered. But now? Now I _must_ ride one, or I am nothing. I am nothing in my old kingdom, perhaps even a traitor, and I am nothing here." Hermann pinched his lips hard and tugged on his sleeves again. "Being nothing _hurts_."

Very carefully, Newt took hold of Hermann's hand and linked their fingers. "No matter what, you're not nothing, not to me. Let's go talk to Schatz." He tugged Hermann's hand just before smiling hugely. "And you look gorgeous in that."

Hermann could only splutter in response as he was dragged along.

***

They went to the private tower access (where Newt had two sturdy chairs). "Schatzi, we'd like to have a talk."

Hermann snarled. "If it's too much to stop yourself from using that name, then you can use Schatzräuber ."

"Yeah, about that, how in the world did you ever pick that? It seems a little odd." The dragon was there, Newt could feel it, but was remaining invisible for some reason.

"The first time I saw it, at it's true size, it was made of its own hoard. It is a treasure, stolen the colors of the sky, the earth, and the water."

_"Come out now, Schatz, before he embarrasses himself further."_

The dragon appeared, the size of a kitten, between them. Even though its wings were tiny, with just a few flaps it was able to perch on Newt's shoulder.

_"Hermann's worried. He's afraid he'll offend you if he tries to saddle you you."_ Newt controlled the urge to tickle the dragon under its chin.

The voice that responded didn't match the body it was coming from, which was interesting. _"His weight is trivial. As long as he doesn't so something that would require me emptying said saddle."_

"Well that's rude," Newt mumbled. _"No, Hermann wouldn't do something like that on purpose."_

_"Then it's of no concern."_

Newt smiled and nodded at Hermann. "It's fine." But then Newt's attention was back on the dragon on his shoulder. _"Why do you let him call you Schatz? It doesn't seem like something you'd be happy with."_

_"He uses it with admiration and respect."_

_"I suppose so. You watched that first lesson? I'll get him trained on Dörthe before coming to you."_

_"Very well."_

_"Thank you. And I think the name is adorable, Schatzi."_

The dragon screeched and bit Newt's earlobe.

"Ow! Hey!" Newt said with a laugh, and swatted at the small creature. "Hermann!"

"Whatever you said, I'm sure you deserved it."

With a fondness, for both Hermann and the dragon, he couldn't disguise, Newt watched the little creature fly over and land on Hermann's shoulder. "Do you want to start here, or go back down?"

Absently running his finger down the tiny ridges of Schatz's back, Hermann answered, "I'd prefer a surface closer to the actual ground. If, when I fall, I'd much rather it be that distance than from up here."

Newt tutted and shook his head. "You have no faith in yourself. You won't fall. And Schatz wouldn't let you anyway."

The small dragon roared as if in agreement, and Hermann sighed, something between relief and resignation.

 

Newt had to admit a certain majesty to Schatz at full size in the sun. _"Where did you come from?"_ he can't help but ask as he and Hermann looped several leather straps hooked together around the dragon's middle.

_"The far south."_

"Huh. That makes sense, I guess."

Hermann ducked under a wing to look at him. "What does?"

"Watch your head, Hermann," Newt warned. _"How is this? Is it in the way?"_

Without warning, necessitating Newt's, Schatz wings opened fully with a snap, ruffling both Hermann and Newt's hair. Several strong beats, sending dust swirling, before they were folded back into place, and Schatz nodded. _"Acceptable."_

And it wasn't really a challenge, but Schatz had a much different body type to the northern dragons Newt had seen, so it wasn't simply a size difference to take into account. He couldn't stop himself from touching the dragon to feel its musculature. "Schatz says it came from the south. I've heard stories about all the mines down there. Gold, diamonds, emeralds, all kinds of different gems. Fields of gold and all that."

"Ah yes. I remember hearing those stories, but my father was considering sending expeditions there to discover the veracity of them. The man has two true loves: power and gold. And only gold because of the power it allows him to gather." Absently with the hand that was not holding the strap, he touched the smooth-scaled hide.

With no small amount of personal shame, Newt realized how much seeing that small gesture was actually exciting him. There was no way he could tell Hermann that. Newt's measure of the man was enough now to know that as flattering as his reaction might be, Hermann wouldn't want to be a part of a thing like that.

But it wasn't the dragon. It was Hermann, but Newt wasn't sure if Hermann understood that yet. Without overthinking things, because this was as basic as anything in nature, Newt slipped under Schatz to stand next to Hermann. "I'm sorry," he said quietly as he took hold of Hermann's wrist. "I just want you to know that I like you, that I'm _really_ attracted to you." It was a small chance to put his other hand on Hermann's hip, to squeeze it gently.

"All right?" More confused than anything, not pulling away at all…

Newt shifted closer, just enough so that he brushed against Hermann's thigh.

"Newt, what are you-"

"It's nothing." Cheeks burning, Newt released Hermann and stepped back. "I just wanted you to know. I'm sorry." Maybe he should have overthought it. Abandoning the task, Newt hurried down the steps, out of the tower.

***

Newt was already in bed when Hermann opened the door. They'd avoided each other for most of the day, or at least Newt had avoided him, and Hermann wasn't entirely sure why. "You disappeared today," he said casually as he shut the door.

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." Newt's voice was muffled by the blanket over his head.

"I wasn't. Your behavior was odd, but I've come to expect that by now." Hermann stripped, leaving his clothing in a neat pile on a low stool to be collected the next day. When he turned, he caught Newt ducking his face back into the pillows.

"You weren't uncomfortable with what I did? Or mad?"

Hermann slipped into bed, and got comfortable before addressing Newt. "No. Please tell me where this is coming from."

Finally Newt looked Hermann fully in the face. "I was just… Seeing you with Schatz, how comfortable you were, when I remember that first day. It becomes more real, even after all this time, that you're my prince. You're my prince, and I'm happy about that, and I'm glad to see you comfortable. The look on your face was so natural, almost serene. I'm not saying it to pressure you, just you'll never think it's not possible, that I want you."

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hermann nodded. "I understand. I'm fine with that." But he still wasn't ready. He still wasn't brave enough.


	25. Chapter 25

It was a process, and it had been slow at the start, but as Hermann had gotten used to the movement of the dragon beneath him and the unfamiliar method of control, it grew easier by leaps and bounds. It was to the point that after only a week, Hermann was ready.

"You sure? Schatz is going to be more unpredictable than Dörthe."

"I am. And as you said, Schatz won't allow me to get injured."

"In theory," Newt said under his breath. "But if you're ready, then let's do it."

Any saddle in the south took weeks to make, because Hermann's father insisted on it being of the finest leather, etched with fancy designs, and decorated with with gold. The saddle that had been made for Hermann, to fit Schatz, was no different from any other saddle in the castle. Horse or dragon, king or messenger, they were made for utility. The only exception was that on the underside of the seat skirt, Hermann's initials had been branded along with the crest of the Dragon King.

In its plain appearance and pure functionality, Hermann found it beautiful.

"You want me to…?"

"No, I have it." It was heavier than he'd expected, and he had to put substantially more weight on his left step than his right, exaggerating his limp, but this was something he wouldn't let someone do for him. What kind of man would he be? Too much like his father.

Master Hansen, the stable master, and all the hands were keeping well back, within the safety of the storage area, as far away from the unknown dragon as possible while still being able to see. They were the first ones, other than Newt and Hermann, to see Schatz at his full size, and perhaps the first ones to even notice the dragon around the castle.

Knowing this made Hermann walk with a little more iron in his back. He wouldn't be humiliated in front of all these people, who already had doubts about him, on such an important occasion. Schatz was assisting as best a dragon could, laid out on the muddy ground so Hermann didn't have to lift the saddle very high to get it situated. Once it was in place, Schatz stood without prompting so it could be secured.

Hermann had practiced the process, the placement of the stabilizing strap, the specific looping of the ends _before_ they were buckled, and where to tuck them after so they didn't get in the way. It was very similar to a regular horse saddle, but slightly trickier due to the size and modified construction. But Hermann's hands worked with confident strength until everything was in in place and tightened. "Too tight?" he asked quietly as he placed his hand on Schatz's thick neck.

The answer was for the dragon to once again lay on the ground, providing Hermann an easier step for him to mount.

This was the easy part; he had the utmost confidence in Schatz, and felt skilled enough on a dragon that he wouldn't immediately tumble off. "Just please don't fly anywhere. I'm not ready for that," he said as he pulled himself up, and found a comfortable seat. He might never be ready for that, but then he never thought he'd leave his tiny existence under his father's rule and here he was. Never was seeming like something only a child believed in, who hadn't seen the world and all the possibilities it contained.

Certainly, back in the south, Hermann's possibilities were very limited, so it was no wonder his existence revolved around _never_.

"Hermann?" Newt's hand was on his ankle.

Without saying a word, his knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip, Hermann nudged Schatz with his heels.

It was as if the dragon understood his feelings perfectly, and all his worries and doubts, and what life he'd lived, because instead of merely standing and walking, Schatz stood and _ran_.

The practice with Dörthe had been good, because Hermann didn't panic, didn't even attempt to guide Schatz. He just hung on, remembered his old riding lessons, the ones that had taught him how to move with his steed, and ducked his head to minimize the wind in his eyes.

Once around the courtyard, surroundings a blur, and then out the gate with Newt's shout an indistinct noise behind him.

One motion, with all this open space in front of them. Just one motion.

Hermann's forearms twitched, his biceps tensed.

Just that one thing…

Hermann slumped in the saddle, and Schatz slowed to a walk. "If what Newt told me of your conversation is true, then you're absolutely right. I'm a coward." Without prompting, Schatz turned around and carried Hermann back to the castle.

***

Newt framed Hermann's face in his hands. "You're not a coward. You've been riding a dragon for a _week_. That is _years_ less than other riders are trained before they actually fly. The fact that you're even riding one at all is almost a miracle."

"Schatz-"

"If Schatz thought you were truly a coward, he would have taken off the moment we got the saddle off. But he didn't, did he? You know, I think I was more scared than you. Schatz is _fast_ ; I'd really like to see it fly some time, since so many dragons can be kind of clumsy on land."

He was talking too much, he knew that, especially while he was still holding Hermann's face. But Newt had no idea what else to do with Hermann feeling like he'd failed. "Hey, talk to me, not about how you think you're a coward. Tell me how it felt."

At that, the corners of Hermann's mouth turned up. "Amazing. I've never moved so fast in my life."

"You wanted to fly, didn't you?" That was certainly the next step to Newt, to any rider. "Just wanting to makes you not a coward."

"I…"

Smiling, Newt brushed his thumbs along Hermann's cheekbones. "Didn't you?"

"I did. I do."

"Then you will, simple as that."

"It's not th-"

" _Yes_. You just need to keep going, keep practicing, keep trying. We'll go out to the field from now on, and one of these times, you and Schatz are just gonna go _phwip_!"

Hermann smiled, fully this time. "I really don't want to go phwip."

"How about _whoosh_?" Newt really wanted to just lean up and kiss him.

"Maybe… _fooh_."

"I don't even know what fooh is, but everyone has to start somewhere, and I'll be right there to help you however you need it."

"I think you've helped me more than necessary, Newt." But he leaned into the touch of Newt's hand anyway.

"No way. As far as I'm concerned, there's no such thing as too much for you, if you'd just accept it."

 

Newt had always been pushy, and it was simply the worst thing he could be in his interactions with Hermann.

Hermann loved to dig his heels in and resist whether it made any sense to do so or not.

It had Newt second-guessing himself after nearly every conversation. Touching Hermann, in even the smallest ways, felt like a gamble, but one well worth it whenever Hermann did more than simply accept it. Newt was really getting to him, in a good way.

"What are you smiling about?"

Newt looked up. "You."

With a blush blooming on his cheeks, Hermann looked back to securing the saddle to Schatz's back. "I don't know what there is about myself that's worth smiling over."

"Hermann, you're gonna fly, do you know that? And then you'll know exactly what I'm smiling about, because you're going to feel exactly how I feel about you."

"Stop saying such things. It's embarrassing."

"I'll stop until you get in the air, and then you won't hear the end of it."

"Wonderful."

It was, and Newt was ready this time. He'd be right next to him on Dörthe, and she might not be able to keep up with Schatz on the ground, but she'd be ready if Hermann did make it into the air this time. Newt was already in his saddle, waiting, as Hermann finally got into his. _"Schatz, if he wants to fly, stay low to the ground."_

The dragon snorted at him.

"Ignore him, Schatz," Hermann said and pat the side of the dragon's neck. "Sometimes I think the King of Dragons has more in common with the King of Fools."

"Hermann! I'm wounded!" Newt cried, holding his hand over his heart.

From over his shoulder, Hermann smiled at him.

***

_One. Two. Three._

Hermann was fully expecting Schatz to accelerate straight up into the sky when he finally found the courage to pull back on the pair of brass handles. But Schatz did no such thing.

The dragon continued to run, gaining speed, until those wide, shining wings snapped open. A single flap and the pair of them were ten feet off the ground and coasting on momentum.

It was terrifying, even as Newt flew into his field of vision and cheered.

Dörthe was easily keeping up, her steel blue wings flapping lazily to maintain her height more than her speed. Newt looked so happy it was almost painful. He was only hanging on with one hand, a sight that made Hermann's heart clench, and shouting inarticulately while waving.

"Hold on, you bloody fool!" Hermann shouted back. "Use both hands!"

Unsurprisingly, Newt was ignoring him, and pointed upward. "Let's go a little higher!"

Insanity made him pull back very gently as Newt and Dörthe climbed higher. As long as he didn't look down at the blur of the ground, Hermann was fine. The saddle was constructed expertly so that he felt secure in it, but he knew that first glance down would probably have him reeling. Being hesitant to hit the heights of birds was nothing to be ashamed of, not like falling like a stone to the unforgiving earth below would be.

"Open your eyes, Hermann!"

They'd been closed, to his surprise, but upon opening them, Hermann squeezed them immediately shut once more. Birds? Ha, they were above treetops now. "I want to go back!" he yelled abruptly as just the thought started to make him woozy. "Please, I want to go back now!"

With his eyes closed, he could feel Schatz slow down, and gently descend with the slight drop of his gut. It seemed to take a lifetime, but the lurch as Schatz's feet touched the ground made Hermann sigh in relief. While he wanted to get out of the saddle, even if they were in the middle of nowhere, he wasn't sure his legs would hold him just yet.

"Just take deep breaths, Hermann. Relax. We're on the ground. We circled back to the castle. You're safe."

Hermann did just that, listening to Newt as he continued speaking in a low, soothing tone, until his breathing was even and his legs didn't feel quite so much like jelly. "Is that how it is the first time, or am I unsuited for this?"

Newt laughed quietly. "Nope, nothing wrong with your reaction. You did really well. Really well."

Even if he was being charitable, Hermann did feel like he'd accomplished something. He'd stayed in the saddle after all!

"Here, I'm going to lead us back in. Walking. Just stay in the saddle."

The short walk back was something of a cooldown, and the removal of the saddle a calming return to life rooted to the earth. Even as he looked over Schatz to make sure nothing had marred the beautiful scales, Hermann found himself thinking about the next time. What he would do differently now that he knew what it felt like. How secure he'd felt in the saddle that meant he didn't need to be so afraid. And that Newt was there.

"You doing all right?"

Hermann looked at the man in question, and nodded. Calm purpose made him confident, which were both strange sensations. "Yes. I think I'd like a bath. Could I have dinner up there?"

"Sure. You want it right away?"

"Yes, please." He could see the hesitation in Newt's body language, and knew exactly what it was about. His confidence wavered, and Hermann wondered if he was truly shaking as much as he felt like he was.

"I'll bring it up to you?"

"I'd like that." If Newt couldn't ask, then Hermann couldn't answer with any more surety. Newt was the one that was bold, and he was the king! How could Hermann be expected to drive anything forward? So they stood there and looked at one another, awkwardly and growing more-so by the moment.

Newt took a step backwards. "All right then. I'll do that. Just head to the kitchen. And come back. With food. To the bath."

"You could, perhaps, bring enough for both of us?" With just Schatz's hide beneath his hand, Hermann wished he had something to grip tightly to hide the turmoil of his nerves. "If you'd like."

"Oh. Um, yeah. I'll do that." Newt took another step back and tripped over a rock. Recovering just barely, Newt ran his fingers through his hair with an embarrassed smile. "I'll do that right now. Wait for me?"

The nerves hadn't settled; they'd only shifted with Newt's agreement. "I will." And Hermann's stomach would be queasy the whole time, but he'd wait.

With an awkward little wave, Newt turned and actually ran off.

 

Hermann waited in the water, the little side stand already situated so it could be easily reached for when Newt arrived with the food. It was silly to be so nervous, he knew it, because this was just a bath and some food. There were no other plans, no crazy ideas on _anything_ else. Yet the thought wouldn't leave his head, the possibility that something might happen, and it was just-

"Hope that didn't take too long! I had to twist some arms and put it all together myself." Newt stepped inside with a tray piled haphazardly with food. "Hope you don't mind chicken. It seemed the easiest to eat without a knife and all."

Whether he understood the strange place Hermann was in at the moment or was simply overeager, Newt just set the tray down, and undressed.

Hermann remained mostly ignored during all this, which afforded him the guilty opportunity to observe more closely than he ever had before, especially the tattoos as they came into view. Not even that day at the pond had he _really_ looked at them. And now the only thing that came to mind was how good it would feel to have them around him.

He could fly, but still couldn't do this, which was becoming more difficult to handle each day. It took serious self-control for Hermann to remain where he was when Newt got into the water and not immediately go to him, to just feel him.

"Hey, you feel okay" Newt was watching him closely, worry clear in his eyes, but also a kind of curiosity in the tilt of his head.

"Yes." The answer came out more as a whisper, and the heaviness in his chest only increased as Newt's gaze refused to focus elsewhere.

"You know," newt said, looking away finally toward the food, "if you're feeling up to it, there's something I'd like to show you. We'd have to fly there." He reached over and tore a hunk of bread from the full loaf he'd snagged. He dragged it through the butter before turning and sitting back.

He was now well within arm's reach of Hermann, which really only meant it was impossible to not stare at his mouth as he ate.

"Would you like to go with me? Tomorrow night maybe."

When Hermann looked up from Newt's mouth it was directly into his eyes. It was hard to know if was a negative thing that he'd been so blatantly watching because Newt also looked… captivated.

"Let me show it to you,"

It didn't even matter what it was, Hermann had no plan on refusing. "Of course." It was a good thing they were staring at one another, because otherwise it would have been very evident how astoundingly aroused he was. But at this point did it matter? They'd both basically admitted they were attracted to one another, so how would it be at all surprising that he was as hard as the stone he was sitting on?

Even as he was forming the denial in his mind, Hermann's body was leaning forward to take the piece of offered bread in his mouth. The only saving moment of the act was that his hands were very tightly gripping his own thighs, otherwise there was no saying what he might've done.

"I'm scared."

Those words had come from his mouth.

"Of me?" Newt's voice came as a squeak.

"No, not of you. Of…"

"You don't have to say anything. I just want you to know that I'll wait for whenever you're ready. Because you know, you're the Prince of Dragons now, for real, not just in title. You're my prince, and I'm not throwing you away."

It was awkward since they were sitting next to each other, but Hermann managed to hug Newt. "Thank you." Everything his mother had said to him, all the promises his brothers and sister had made to him, this was the first time it felt like… not an apology. He didn't need to feel bad for existing and putting responsibility on others for his welfare. He didn't have to feel bad for wanting Newt, and didn't have to hide it. Never once had he pretended to be something he wasn't, but now it was all right to let others see who he was, and not be ashamed for being a thing his father had never cared for.

"Hey, hey."

Newt carded his fingers through Hermann's hair, which prompted Hermann to do the same as he breathed deeply with his nose pressed against his husband's neck. "I want to. I do, but I'm just…" Hermann shook his head, but didn't remove himself from the coziness of Newt's neck and shoulder.

With a sigh that read more as content than anything else, Newt kissed Hermann's cheek. "You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"I'm jealous that you can be so casual with your affection. That you're bold and unafraid to give it to someone. That you so readily grant it to someone who has been less than kind." Newt's hands were gently rubbing his back now, and it only made Hermann feel all the worse about the situation. "I wish I could do this so easily."

"Do what?"

Reluctantly, Hermann released Newt and sat back. "I was never able to show my attraction, let alone affection. Looks, glances, my imagination, that was all I had while my brothers would openly talk about the ladies they'd had dalliances with."

"Oh." Newt shrugged. "I never was attracted to anyone."

" _What_? You mean this is all-"

"No, not at all! Before, there was never anyone that I was interested in. My father said that when the right one came along, I'd know, and to not worry about it. I don't know if there was anyone he ever loved, like romantically." He reached back to get himself a piece of chicken.

"Not even your mother?" Not that Hermann could say if his father ever truly loved his mother.

"If she'd agreed to actually become queen, I think he would have come to love her. And then I guess he had to worry about me, so didn't go out looking for anyone. We had a weird dynamic, I guess."

"But he loved you. And your mother loves you. I would take your family over mine in a heartbeat." At least your father. I worry." Whenever his thoughts were allowed to wander to his old home, Hermann worried. How could he not? "I'm sorry. That was insensitive."

But Newt smiled at him. "Families are complicated. I get it. Have you met my uncles?"

"Indeed."

"Now here, eat. You are way too skinny."


	26. Chapter 26

"So tonight, I have something I want you to see. Don't get all pooped out." Even though Newt was positive Hermann would do this no matter what, and his warning wouldn't have stopped him, that was also part of riding. Just like a horse, sometimes it involved long stretches of sitting uncomfortably, and being sore, and just generally not having fun.

Hermann hadn't hit that point yet, so this was just something he'd go with for now. "I won't. I'm sure I'll be perfectly fine for tonight."

"I'm just saying…" With that said, Newt just stood back and let Hermann get around to getting the saddle on Schatz. He waited until Hermann was tightening the straps before he gestured to his right. "Now stay quiet," he whispered as Mako and Chuck came over. "He's still shy about it."

Both children stood stock still, and Newt could imagine the looks of disbelief on their faces, both at the unique dragon and the prince, their teacher, getting easily into the saddle. Chuck started shifting from foot to foot, his interest and eagerness barely restrained, while Mako was like a statue.

When Hermann was ready, he directed Schatz to the gate and through. He'd requested Newt not help him this time, putting his trust in Schatz to not do anything Hermann couldn't handle, giving Newt the chance to watch from a distance.

"Come on, let's go so we don't miss it." Newt ran across the courtyard, hearing the kids follow behind, and stopped in the shadow of the gate. "Remember, keep quiet so we don't spook him." Even at distance, he could see the look of concentration on Hermann's face as he made slow circles. It was actually kind of a joy to see, after he'd gotten so jaded watching group after group of children come through. There was something _different_ about this, or maybe it was simply because it was Hermann.

Or maybe it was that Hermann seemed to finally be the one his father had assured him he would find some day. He was pretty sure it was related to dragon magic, that he'd been fairly uninterested in any kind of romantic or sexual connection. It wasn't that he was had no mind for physical pleasures, as he'd gone to the physician when he was much younger with a lot of questions. The answers hadn't all made sense at the time, but they were enough for him to know there was no danger or shame in exploring his bodily reactions.

If Hermann hadn't even been able to do _that_ , it was no wonder he'd been so angry at the start, and then so hesitant. But that Hermann was very different from the one Newt was watching now, on the back of a dragon, looking like he belonged.

The circles were no longer quite so slow, and were widening.

Newt crouched to one knee. "Watch this."

A little faster, one more circle, and Schatz's wings opened, drawing gasps from Mako and Chuck. A few more powerful strides, a beat of the wings, and they were in the air.

Mako was the first to react. "Your highness!" she yelled, and ran into the open field, her arms waving frantically. "You're flying!"

Just two steps behind her was Chuck, silent, but staring up at the sky, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun. Walking slowly, watching them instead of Hermann, Newt approached the kids. "You'll get up there one day, flying all over the place, being nuisances."

"He really is the Prince of Dragons," Chuck said quietly.

Mako turned and punched him in the arm. "I told you!"

Newt only smiled. "Yeah, he is."

***

It was well past the time Hermann usually went to bed that he followed Newt up to what he had started thinking of as the king's tower. Both Schatz and Dörthe were already waiting, along with their saddles. The area was lit by several small braziers, just well enough that they'd be able to saddle their dragons in the dark of the moonless sky.

Newt was burdened by a pack and two large bundles that left him huffing at the top of the stairs. "You dressed warm?" he asked in between breaths.

"I did. Should I begin saddling Schatz?" Maybe this would calm his nerves because Newt had said nothing about what they were doing other than the fact that it would required flying. What was in the pack and the bundles, Hermann had no clue. It could be almost anything in there. All his questions had been rebuked by a secretive smile, and nothing more.

This nervous and excited wondering occupied him until the dragons were saddled, and they were in the air. Newt said something to Schatz, then warned Hermann to hold on.

As if he wouldn't be anyway, but Hermann tightened his grip just as Newt started to climb at a terrifying angle and Schatz followed right along. The wind was cold on his face, forcing him to squint against it as he hunched forward and put more of his weight on his legs. The sensation of falling backwards was too strong otherwise; amazing that this was all instinct on his part.

"Almost there!" Newt yelled back to him.

It was a good thing Newt knew where they were going, because with the wind and darkness, Hermann couldn't see a thing. He only knew they were still flying up with each powerful stroke of Schatz's wings. The darkness was welcome though, because Hermann could only imagine how high they were. It was probably higher than any person had ever been before, except Newt.

And now him.

It was a kind of sick curiosity that he _wanted_ to see how high up they were, but the wind, growing colder by the moment, had finally forced him to shut his eyes completely. It caught him off guard though, when there was a sudden lurch, a bone-jarring thud, and they were at a full stop.

"We're here. But take your time while I set up. Are you cold? I brought blankets, but I can't start a fire. I have some water and a little something to eat too."

"How long do you plan on keeping me here?" Hermann asked as he finally cracked his eyelids open. He'd meant the question as a joke, but upon seeing the barren, rocky plateau, he wasn't sure this was some kind of exile he was being subjected to.

Newt smiled though. "Only as long as you want to." He was placing heavy furs and pillows on the bare ground with a large rock outcropping to lean against. "Trust me, it's not comfortable enough that you'll fall asleep or anything, and I couldn't make Schatz leave without you." Newt fluffed the pillows and bunched up a blanket to sit on. "Come here. Have a seat."

On legs that were stronger than he thought they'd be, Hermann slid out of the saddle, and went to the spot Newt had set up for them. "What about-"

"They'll be fine for a little while," Newt said as he lowered himself to one pillow. "Come on, beside me so we can share our body heat."

Without hesitation, still filled with curiosity, Hermann did so. When Newt slung a heavy fur across his shoulders, he pulled it into place, folding it over his chest.

Newt covered their legs with another fur, then finished cocooning the both of them with the fur across his chest. "Cozy, eh?"

Pressed shoulder to shoulder, bundled in furs, Hermann nodded. "Now what is it you wanted to show me?"

"Look up."

Apparently Hermann had been too distracted by everything else to notice that at whatever elevation they'd climbed to, the entire sky was open, unblocked by trees or buildings or mountains. And without the light from the moon, it felt like he could see forever overhead. "It's breathtaking."

"Yeah."

Hermann had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, looking up, mentally cataloging everything he could, before Newt nudged him, forcing a skin into his hands.

"It's water. Do you want some bread?"

Without looking away from the sights above, Hermann ate a piece of bread, then took a long drink of water. "I have to come here again with my journal. How high have you flown before? The highest."

"We can talk about all that when we get back. I didn't realize you'd be so into this." Under the fur, Newt's hand was on Hermann's thigh, unmoving, just a warm weight.

Hermann chose, for the most part, to ignore it. "Other than the movement that we can measure, there's almost no way we can study what's out there. Even the moon, we have just basic observations of, and other than the sun it's the most basic thing in the sky. Don't you wonder how there can be clouds out there?"

"I-"

"There can't be! They're not clouds, at least not what we think of as clouds. Magic is a terrestrial thing, and we know so little of it. Imagine what exists in all of that." He gestured at the sky then looked at Newt.

That infuriating smile that made it impossible to be angry.

"You're not taking me seriously."

"I absolutely am. I love hearing you talk about this stuff, but I can't really help you with it. I'll listen whenever you want to talk, or if you want someone to sit with you, but I'm much more ground-based. Plants and animals and shit."

"Shit?"

Newt stuck his tongue out. "You know what I mean."

"Mm, yes, I do." Hermann sighed. "It seems that people have no interest in things except for the direct effect it has on their lives. This could lead to something so much more than just day-to-day existence, subsistence living. The possibilities are endless!"

"I'll do whatever I can to help you do what you want, except fly you to the moon. That is the one thing I forbid. I don't want to lose you to that."

Hermann could only hope that in the bare, hard light of the stars his blush wouldn't be visible. Even if it were a joke, the idea of traveling to the moon was ludicrous, and he wouldn't want to be so far away either, not when he was finally settling in. Not when Newt could put a hand on his thigh and it didn't bother him. "No, I wouldn't do that."

"I'm glad."

It was a strange, silent stillness, disturbed only by the shifting of the dragons and the increasing wind. Their breath was coming out in small clouds now.

"You're shivering," Newt whispered.

Hermann was, with the fur still thrown off one shoulder from his energetic gesticulating earlier, while his ears and nose were starting to really feel it.

"Here." Newt reached across Hermann's body to pull the fur back into place. He smoothed it down far more than necessary. "Better?"

"A bit."

Newt looked up at him, still leaning across Hermann, to see just how close they were to one another in the moment.

There was no sudden urge, no impulsive move; that was not how Hermann operated. He thought and considered, and worked things over in his head before proceeding. This was something he'd been thinking about for a while now, even if it hadn't always been in the front of his thoughts. Even if was something he'd never done before. "Newt."

"Hermann?"

If they weren't so close, the speed that Hermann lowered his head would have probably had him backing off before, but it really was only enough space for Hermann to take one deep breath. One breath, wrapped in warmth and safety, the smell of Newt and his green gaze locked on his. Hermann let his eyes fall closed as his mouth came into contact with Newt's.

He wouldn't quite call it a revelation; it was more of a realization. This was something he'd been missing in his life for thirteen years, and he hoped it wasn't going to be yanked away. He thought he'd understood his life before, but no, he'd been all wrong. Newt had talked about finding the right one and lot of other nonsense when they'd been forced together, but now it didn't seem quite so impossible.

Newt got a little more aggressive with the contact, and Hermann returned it. Being afraid seemed so pointless now, all that time he'd spent worrying and being frightened when he could have been doing truly important things.

Finally Hermann had to pull away to get his breath back, the cold air a shock to his lungs while the rest of him was so warm.

"I'm sorry. I got carried away," Newt said, and tried to remove himself from Hermann's space.

Oh no, that wouldn't do, not now, so Hermann grabbed on to the front of Newt's coat and pulled him closer. "Don't be sorry. This is my choice." Newt's fingers were cold on his cheek, but his lips were warm as Hermann leaned in to capture them again.

It was Newt that tore himself away, sitting back and panting. "We need to go because this rock is uncomfortable, and I'd really like to undress you," he said breathlessly, not bothering to fix the fur that had slipped off himself. "I mean, if you'd let me. Or you can undress me, or whatever. We can just do this fully dressed. Just-"

"I'd like that."

Newt's voice was a faint squeak when he asked, "What?"

"All of it." Maybe that was overstating it a little, but the fear was gone. That pit that had been residing in his gut had been banished, replaced with nervous anticipation. Now thinking about getting undressed or undressing Newt made his stomach drop in a pleasant way to coincide with his penis starting to swell. "I-I want to see you. All of you."

Newt was to his feet in an instant, gathering up all the various things he'd brought, even yanking the fur from Hermann's shoulders. "Yes, yes, we need to go!"

Smiling now, though he should have been unsurprised at Newt's reaction, Hermann got to his feet. Had he truly been unsure that Newt would receive his desires negatively? He needed to stop doubting himself. "Can I carry any of that?"

"If you could get the things in the pack…?"

As Newt rushed around, Hermann carefully put the skin of water and uneaten bread away, noting the second skin and more bread still inside. Apparently Hermann had managed to cut this trip much shorter than Newt had expected, and he had no idea why, but it warmed him. Truly this had been something special, even if it hadn't ended in such an interesting way. "Does Schatz know the way back?"

"Probably. We really just flew up the mountain." Newt had one sloppy bundle and was working on the second.

Hermann put his arms through the straps of the pack, hooked the waist buckle across his stomach, then went to get into his saddle. "I trust you know where to go then, Schatz."

"Hey, Hermann, wait for me."

But Schatz was up, and Hermann was directing him to the edge of the plateau. "I'll wait for you at the castle, Newt." A deep breath and silent hope he didn't throw up, and Hermann urged Schatz forward.

The dragon actually leapt forward, wings opening at the last moment as the both of them went plummeting off the side.

Hermann was probably screaming, but his voice was lost in the noise of air whipping past his ears. The thought only occurred to him then that this was probably a bad idea, but it was of course too late. At some point, in the timeless drop to his death, the screaming (in his head, out of his mouth) changed from absolute terror to an eflusion of everything he'd been holding back ever.

Fear, loneliness, jealousy, impotent curiosity, pain, betrayal, and always the question of 'why him?', it was all being left behind. Ahead, below, was the castle, mostly a dark sharp with small lights in the darkness, but it was _ahead_. It was the future for him, and though his magic stayed quiet, Hermann knew the castle, his home now, would never be far from his visions.

Schatz started to level out on his own, diminishing the steepness until they were gliding parallel to the wallwalks. They circled the entire castle twice like this before Schatz landed on King's Tower, where Newt was already waiting.

Waving his arms frantically, Newt ran to Hermann. "Are you crazy? Hermann! Are you okay? I thought you fell!"

Hermann ignored the stream of questions, ignored the panic on Newt's face, as he unbuckled the pack and let it slide from his back, then carefully got out of the saddle. His legs weren't entirely firm, feeling a little weak, even while he himself felt exhilarated.

"Hermann, say something!"

With Newt yelling in his face, Hermann grabbed the front of his coat, pulled him forward, and kissed him. The compact body against him was rigid with surprise for a moment, but relaxed into the contact. This was so much better than before, because Newt was cradling the back of his neck and leaning against him.

"We should stop," mumbled Newt with his lips still against Hermann's. "Let the beasts free so we can get to the bedroom."

With an agreeable hum, still not quite willing to release his husband, Hermann continued to kiss him. But Newt was very right; the bedroom sounded extremely inviting no matter how much enjoyment they were getting out of their current activity. So with great effort, heavy sighs shared as they got their breath back, they separated, and began to unsaddle their dragons.

"Go, Dörthe," Newt said quietly, and gave the dragon an affectionate swat on the rump when he was finished, then helped Hermann finish with Schatz. They didn't speak to one another, but Newt kept looking up and smiling.

When that was done, Newt extinguished the fires, took hold of Hermann's hand, and led him down the stairs to the bedroom.

Hermann followed very willingly.

* * *

"Hey, I have an idea." Newt propped himself up on his elbow and looked at Hermann.

"Hm?" Hermann kept his eyes closed, fading quickly into sated sleep.

"We're gonna have a one year anniversary, right? But this is a great idea, so listen. Are you listening?"

"Mhm."

"We should have a handfasting renewal. A nice ceremony, but no helmets, no fear, and with everyone seeing how strong we're gonna be together." Newt grinned. "And then we can have a proper wedding night, right?"

Hermann opened his eyes and looked at Newt. "Wear the helmet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.


	27. Renewal and Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The handfasting, the renewal of the vows, takes place, and of course Hermann's family had to be invited.

The messenger was wearing the full regalia of the Dragon Kingdom (they have a name, but he never bothered to learn it) as he walked to stand in front of the throne.

"And what is this intrusion about?" His son started to whisper something, but he cut the boy short with a glare. "We have important matters to attend to. Tell me why you've come!"

The messenger bowed deeply, and presented an ornately decorated package. "An invitation from the king, and a small token of his appreciation for continued peace between the two kingdoms."

More useless dragon-shaped trinkets no doubt, which could only mean they continued to prosper, much to his own displeasure. With a sneer of boredom and superiority, he waved his hand.

A guard retrieved the offering, because he certainly wasn't going to rise from his throne, nor beckon the messenger closer, and brought it to him. The gift he immediately handed over to his wife, while the rolled parchment he read to himself.

He sighed in resignation, knowing there was no way to refuse, and nodded. "Tell your master we accept." Only when the messenger was gone, with a very disrespectful bow as far as he was concerned, did he throw the parchment at his son. "Make preparations for this wasteful trip."

 

Karla unrolled the parchment Dietrich had given her and read it again. It was the fourth time she'd read it in the privacy of her room, and still the words hadn't changed. With no word from Hermann since she'd ventured to see him, she kept expecting the letter to change into something about his death. Instead, it was an invitation to the renewing of the vows between her brother and the king of the dragons.

A soft knock on her door had her rolling the parchment back up and stuffing it under her pillows. "Yes?'

The door opened just enough so that Dietrich could peer inside. "Father's mad." He looked behind himself into the hallway. "This won't go well."

"I can only hope Hermann has enough influence that I don't get lumped in with him then." Reaching under the pillow, Karla took out the parchment once more. "This must mean good news for him, right?"

Finally Dietrich entered the room and shut the door. "I think so. At the very least, it can't be bad news, because Father looked… angry."

"He'll be our ruin, Dietrich. You know this. Already the treaty with the _Froschkönig_ is deteriorating. Our military weakness is becoming more obvious the longer Father tries-"

"You think I don't know that?" Dietrich snapped. "What do you suggest I do? Poison him in his sleep?"

Karla's silence was as much an answer as she would give.

"And you know I won't do any such thing." Dietrich looked drained in the light of the candles around the room. "The only thing I can think of at this point that doesn't involve killing _our_ father is speaking to the dragon king with the hope he'll hold off any kind of action against us, no matter what Father might do. Father won't do it, so I will put forth the effort at diplomacy."

"Hermann ca-"

"No, I'm not going to make this his responsibility. It's ours. He shouldn't have to exert any influence simply because he's our brother."

"Yes, of course." Karla looked at the parchment in her hands. "Being so worried about him only put into perspective what lengths Father is willing to go to. Will I be his next bargaining commodity?" She looked up, the faint worry in her voice balanced by the determination in her eyes. "I told Hermann I wouldn't leave, I wouldn't run. I'm not so sure if it wouldn't be better for all of us that I did."

It was Dietrich's turn to sound lost. "Where would you go? Up north?"

"Maybe. At first. The world is a big place, and our kingdom is getting ever smaller because of the poor decisions of our father."

***

Much as before, when they were prepared to leave their brother behind to an unknown fate, they traveled north. It was the first time in ages Karla could remember her mother looking at all pleased about something. The woman was, sadly, a near non-entity, not only in the kingdom, but in the family. It was a fate Karla feared more than anything for herself, and it was more a real a possibility now than she'd ever imagined.

The closer they got to their destination, the more often Karla caught her looking out the carriage's window and smiling. Just a tiny upturn of the corners of her mouth, but that was still a smile. "He's happy, Mother. This turned out to be a good thing for him."

"I believe you, but you must understand." The woman never looked to her daughter.

"I do." When their father died (because no man was immortal, no matter how much he might wish it), Dietrich would become king while their mother would probably remove herself from court life. It had been a long, unpleasant experience for her, Karla was positive.

The misery of being powerless was not a new thing.

 

The fanfare they were greeted with, when they approached the castle gates, was greater than previously. Unlike before, with all the guards out, there were also plenty of regular citizens there celebrating their arrival.

Karla could just imagine the look on her father's face. That, just as much as the welcoming crowd made her smile, he absolutely loathed it. No matter how much she liked it, to risk actually waving was to invite her father's wrath.

 

They were given time to refresh themselves before the official greeting ceremony. Karla took the opportunity to dress in her most flattering outfit (layered to combat the chill of the stone floors and walls), apply some fresh powder and blush, and perfume on the off-chance there would be a visiting royal willing to risk her father's ire. It had been idle thought before, but now it looked like a thing she should explore.

A gentle knock on her door pulled her from nervous contemplation. "Your royal highness?"

"Is it time? All right then." Their rooms were all in separate areas, much to her father's annoyance, but Karla welcomed the distance. Privacy was something she cherished, and in that way she was very much like Hermann.

The servant, clean and demure, but not meek, escorted her to the junction of the halls where they'd been escorted in separate directions. Her brothers were already waiting, but her parents were nowhere in sight.

"Smart they were," Bastien whispered. "If Father had been kept here waiting for us, you'd be able to hear it through the entire place."

Dietrich was the only one brave enough to smirk.

And as if summoned, their father came marching toward them. "Let's get this over with," he growled as he swept past them.

 

The throne room was decorated even more grandly than before, for the wedding ceremony, with nothing held back. If this wasn't a sign that things were better than ever here, Karla had read it all wrong on her last visit.

A horn sounded, echoing through the space and turning Karla's attention from a very familiar knife mounted on the wall. Unlike previously, when the king emerged from a door that was behind the throne, the great doors opened and a hush settled over the gathered crowd. Of course her eyes were drawn immediately to the king, in his black armor and fearsome helmet, long cape lined with white spotted fur, and the sword glimmering brightly at his side. He was the perfect portrait of someone known as the King of Dragons. But it was Hermann at his side that held her gaze as she studied him.

He walked with a limp, which worried her of course, but that was the only sign of distress about him. He looked very elegant in his black leather with silver bindings, and long blue coat trimmed with silvery gray fur around the neck and all down the front. The delicate crown, something others might call feminine, looked perfect on him. With his hand resting possessively on the king's arm, there was no doubt he'd found his place here.

Finally he'd trusted himself.

But Karla's blooming smile did falter when she saw the small creature on his shoulder, nestled amongst the fur. There was also no doubt that was a dragon on her brother's shoulder.

***

"That went both better and worse than I expected. I could feel Father ready to just start shouting; that he didn't is a miracle."

Dietrich shook his head. "We have two more days. Don't count the man and his lack of self-control out just yet." Paling abruptly, Dietrich paused in the middle of removing his armor. "You don't think, if he does something stupid, Mother will be punished, do you?"

"Hermann wouldn't allow it. Even if that was all for show, he wouldn't let that happen. She's done _nothing_."

But Dietrich looked thoughtful, if still worried. "Exactly. She hasn't done anything. She just stood aside and let Father ridicule him, and send him off to his death. You don't think Hermann might be just a little bit vengeful?"

Bastien stared, mouth open. "I think he has every right to be angry at Father. I think we all do. But you're implying he would be that petty to take it out on Mother. That's insanity, Dietrich. That's not Hermann at all."

"Not before, but he lives with dragons now. There was even one on his shoulder. Who knows how that's changed him?"

 

The small dragon hissed at him, the faint smell of sulphur filling the room.

"This little guy doesn't breathe fire, does he?"

"Schatz does not, but he is very protective." Hermann turned his head to address the dragon on his shoulder. "Go on, Schatz. This is my brother; I'll be fine."

Narrowing its eyes in a very human look of distrust, the dragon screeched once before flying up to sit on one of the high shelves against the wall.

"So," Hermann said as he sat, rubbing his thigh absently, "what did you want to talk about?"

"This will sound silly, and I know in the back of my head I'm taking it too far, but Dietrich got me thinking-"

"That's always dangerous."

The half-smile Hermann was giving him put Bastien slightly more at ease. "We're worried about Mother," he explained. "We all know how Father is, and Dietrich and I are expecting the worst from him while we're here."

"I expect it as well, but I'm not worried about it."

"Right, but if he does something… extreme, we just want to know Mother won't be punished for it. You know she doesn't-"

"You two thought I would-"

"No! No, I didn't at all! And Dietrich was worried how you might have changed since you've been here, if your perspective could have altered." Bastien looked down at his hands, then at the small tray of food set out. "He was worried you might have decided she was too complacent being this far removed from the situation." Impulsively, he poured himself a cup of whatever was in the delicate bone-colored pot. It was hot, steaming, and fragrant; it flooded his mouth with a subtle sweetness and unfamiliar herbal flavor. What he'd wanted to say was forgotten as he looked at the cup in his hand with surprise. "What is this?"

"Tea, of course. It's the middle of the morning."

"I've never had any kind of tea like this."

"You should convince Father to be less of an unyielding beast; you might find the flow of trade goods more interesting that way." Hermann cut a slice of bread from a small loaf and buttered it. "Try this with the tea."

What had started as a very awkward and uncomfortable conversation transformed into a comfortable, casual chat over new tastes that Bastien found agreed with him. "Tell me one thing," he said after his third slice of bread (sweetened with something called molasses, a strange robust sugar from the west), "do you love him?"

The immediate coloring of Hermann's cheeks was enough to indicate that there was, at the very least, serious feeling there. "It doesn't matter," Hermann mumbled. "This was never about love, was it?"

"No, but that doesn't mean it can't end up that way. I'm not interested in bedroom details, but I want to know this is working. How does he agree to marry someone and he doesn't know if it's a man or a woman? I couldn't ever marry a man."

"Lucky you weren't in my position then," Hermann said with just a hint of anger. "I think Father suspected, about me, and that made it even easier for him. And things aren't the same here; it's the nature of dragon magic."

Bastien cut himself another slice of bread and sat back. "Can you tell me about it?"

The conversation continued until lunch.

***

Newt leaned against Hermann, pushing him to the wall, and kissed his neck.

"N-Newt, the ceremony…"

"Just a reminder about tonight," Newt said, grinning against Hermann's flesh, his hands sliding from resting on Hermann's hips to encircle his waist. "Don't let anyone else ruin it."

"He'll try, whether on purpose or simply his inability to control his anger, it will happen." He returned Newt's embrace.

"Doesn't matter. He can't control you; you're not his property now. I don't want you to be worried about him. This is our day, remember? _You_ are the only person I'm concerned with."

Hermann sighed, slumping slightly. "He'll always have that power over me, probably even after he's dead. I'll just be consumed with guilt."

"If I can ever help you, just tell me. He never deserved a son like you."

 

The handfasting went without a problem. The worst Hermann's father did was look terminally disinterested through the short ceremony. At least the rest of his family looked varying degrees of happy for him, and at one point his mother even dabbed at her eyes while smiling.

Newt looked so handsome in white, abandoning the helmet this time for just his crown, that it was only when they turned to face their audience that Hermann could finally stop looking at him. The applause, dare he even call it cheering, they received was almost enough to make him blush. It was difficult enough not to shrink away in embarrassment, but Newt's hand was gripping his, not allowing him to flee this celebration.

Newt waved his hand, the one not holding Hermann's, until the noise died down. "To feast!" he declared, and the cheering started anew, continuing even as the crowd filed out of the throne room. "I want to change," he said quietly once everyone except the standard guard rotation was gone. "But I'm afraid we'll be late to the feast."

Without thought, Hermann gave Newt a searing kiss and popped the clasps of his jacket open. With just the thin shirt beneath exposed, Hermann slid his hand inside. "This is enough, isn't it?" he asked, breathing heavily.

Much more slowly, Newt returned the favor, smiling with delight as he did. "Never enough."

"We really need to go to the feast now or we'll never make it."

It was understandable that they were slightly late, and their disheveled state of dress raised no eyebrows (other than a slap on the back from Ilja) as they sat. And why should it? Though Hermann was always looking for an accusatory look, a disappointing shake of the head, he never found it; it was still a new thing for him to be open about his relationship with a man (even if he was the king), so when Newt leaned over to kiss his cheek, he turned bright red.

"Newt! My family…"

To Hermann's horror, Newt looked to them and gave a thumb's up.

With an ear-splitting screech of wood on stone, Hermann's father pushed his chair back. He stood, and there was no mistaking the fury on his face. He marched down the table, only stopping when he reached Hermann's seat. The look was turned on Newt for a brief, but unmistakable moment of intense loathing, then to Hermann. "You are not my son," he hissed, though he needn't have spoken louder because of the quiet that had settled over the entire hall. "You embarrass my family by being such a pathetic whore for power!"

Hermann's mouth worked, but no words came from it. "Me?" he managed, though it came out as an undignified squawk.

"Sitting here, a shameless deviant, cavorting with dragons. You disgust me!"

Newt stood, nearly knocking his chair over, and was followed by both his uncles. "It sounds to me, _sir_ , like you're breaking the treaty we made on the grounds of your son's marriage to me." It wasn't visible, but to the sensitive, like Hermann, Newt's magic could be felt. The dragon was coming to the surface.

"No, the treaty remains, but your invitations are no longer welcome."

"I pity your kingdom," Newt returned, far more evenly than Hermann thought possible of him. "A treaty made on broken promises and treachery isn't much of a treaty, is it?"

Straightening to his full height, which was quite a bit taller than Newt, Hermann's father snarled. "Are you threatening my kingdom?"

"Of course not. Merely warning you that the continued fulfillment of this treaty now rests wholly in the hands of your son, no matter that you've disowned him because I'm sure he has no desire for you to be his father."

There was no room for words after, no way to save the situation or any dignity. The man left, the look on his face still furious. After a few disbelieving seconds, his wife followed, and she looked more frightened than anything.

Hermann's siblings all looked uncomfortable, but didn't leave their seats.

Newt shrugged and sat back down, indicating things should return to normal.

"Do you think we could send up some food?" Hermann asked. "For my mother."

"Of course! Come on, Hermann, I barely hold him responsible. He backed down so fast it was just sad." And while Newt was plenty at ease and untroubled by the encounter, Hermann was the opposite.

He'd lost his appetite, and more than anything wanted to be alone so he could cry. He'd known there was no going back, that his father would never accept him, but to hear it like that… To be so publicly humiliated and have his family pulled away from him…

"Breathe, Hermann. Relax and breathe," Newt said to him quietly, covering his hands with his own.

"He-he sold me, like a sheep, and then calls me a whore for power… That's what he said, right?" The enormity of it was starting to crush Hermann, even if it was a hateful lie.

"He said a lot of horseshit that I wouldn't expect out of a stablehand's mouth." Newt put his hand on Hermann's shoulder, then on the back of his neck. "Do you want to go back to chambers?"

More than anything, but realistically, in front of all these people, he needed to stay and prove something. "I should stay," Hermann replied weakly, staring at his plate of half-eaten food. "If I leave, it only proves to them he still has power over me, and then what kind of confidence can they have in me? How can I be Prince of Dragons if they all believe I'm afraid of a dragonslayer?"

It was a good speech, and while it was said aloud, it was meant more for himself than Newt. It even worked a little.

There was another hand on his shoulder, firmer than Newt's, that made him look up.

"Your majesty. Your royal highness. After that display, I think it's more important than ever that we speak."

"Dietrich-"

"I'm sorry, your highness, but this is business that cannot wait."

Newt took over smoothly, leaving his hand on Hermann's neck to stroke the nape lightly. "I bet." He looked over his shoulder and indicated to one of the servants. "Bring food and drink to the council room."

"Yes, your majesty."

Dietrich was still there his hand on Hermann's shoulder. "Bring whatever counsel you'd like. Please. I want no mistakes between us, your majesty."

Newt leaned in close to Hermann, almost, but not quite planting a kiss on his cheek. "Hermann, tell me you can fake a smile for all these people. Just one."

"I can."

"Good. Stand up, smile, and wave so we can get out of here."

It took effort, but Hermann managed to both stand and smile. Newt held up their interlinked hands, then pressed a kiss to the Hermann's hand. It was enough as they received a subdued round of applause, and then they were able to retreat.

 

Hermann found a little of his appetite in the council room, where he was mostly ignored when the serious talk began between Newt and his brother.

"Your majesty, as I'm sure you know I am in line to take the throne after my father," Dietrich explained with an odd urgency. "But I must assure you that I don't share his paranoid opinions or imaginary persecutions. Our kingdoms are at odds for our differing philosophies, but that's a minor thing."

"A minor thing? You've been killing dragons for sport to prove some sort of manhood!" Gunter snapped.

"A thing my father implemented when I was a boy, to bolster his claim to the throne. People killed by dragons is such a small amount, less than those who die of infected teeth. We _can_ defend our people from dragons when necessary; we don't need to slaughter them in the mountains."  
"Fine, you're a nice guy, I get it. What do you want?" Newt asked shortly, rubbing Hermann's back the entire time.

"I simply want to make a sort of pre-treaty with you. Whatever actions my father takes, and however you respond to them, that when I take his place, we return to a state of friendly peace, with all trade lines open between us."

Ilja snorted in disbelief.

"I know you have no reason to believe anything I'm saying except… I love my mother, and I love my brother. My father is destroying our kingdom."

Newt looked from Dietrich to his uncles, then at Hermann. "All right."

"Newt! No!"

"It's fine, Uncle. I believe him."

Hermann leaned into him. "Thank you."

***

"I'm just… disappointed. I knew he felt that way, but it was easier not hearing it."

Newt ran the cloth across Hermann's shoulders, then down over his shoulder blade. "I don't know. Should we not have invited him?" He followed the path of the cloth with his lips.

"He would have been insulted, and I was happy to see the others. No, better he be disgusted by me than insulted by you." Hermann sighed, and leaned on his arms as Newt continued his attention. "And somehow we managed both."

With a snort that came out more like a raspberry on Hermann's back, Newt said, "I'm not worried. I think I scared him a little. Though I'm glad the kids weren't there to see it, to see him."

"Hm, why is that?" Hermann's eyes were beginning to close more regularly as Newt continued to run his hands down from shoulder to waist.

"Because they don't need to form opinions based on just that tiny thing. We need to encourage them to discover everything they can about a conflict before charging ahead. Knowledge should form the base of anything they engage in."

Hermann turned his head and looked at Newt from the corner of his eye. "Anything?"

"Oh yes," Newt said, pressing himself against Hermann's back before reaching around to fondle him under the water.

"And what do you think you're doing?"

"Washing you. And you're helping! Yeah, lift up so I can get under."

Hermann grabbed his husband's wrist, stilling his hand. "Bed. I insist."

It was a very effective way to banish the embarrassing behavior of his father from his thoughts.

***

While her brothers could only spare a wave so as to keep up with their father, Karla could give Hermann a hug. "If you ever come across any eligible dignitaries, let me know."

"Open this in private," Hermann told her, shoving a small box in her hand. "Don't let Father see it."

"I won't." One last squeeze before she released him and climbed into the carriage.

Hermann went to the other side and leaned in. "Mother…"

"It was so good to see you." She smiled and touched his cheek with one pale, thin hand.

"Think of me," he said, and gave her a box similar to what he'd given Karla.

"I always do. And I hope taking care of your king is more than just your duty."

"It is."

"Good." She pressed a kiss to his cheek, then sat back with the box clutched in her hands now.

And that was it. Hermann stepped down from the carriage, closed the door, and they were on their way.

Karla looked at the gift in her hands. If this wasn't private enough, then truly she had no privacy. Just a gentle tug of the rough twine to loosen it, and she could pull the top off. Inside was a note carefully folded, and beneath that was a tiny pendant. It was small enough to be easily worn underneath her robes, or pinned inside if she wished, to remain hidden at all times. It was made of gold and decorated with pearls and a lovely dark green stone she couldn't identify. Immediately she hooked and secured it on the button of her inner sleeve, a comforting weight.

Her mother was smiling, but didn't open the gift she'd been given. They continued most of the way home in pleasant silence.

***

There were times that the man was reasonable. The real problem was that his mood often shifted as easily as a leaf in the wind. It was not a pleasant thing to witness.

When he saw the pendant of diamonds and sapphires pinned very predominantly to his wife's robes, he exploded in fury while Karla was there to see it.

"What is this? Where did you get it?" His paranoia could only be matched by his jealousy and fear of inadequacy.

"It was a gift." The queen held her head high when she answered.

"Who thinks they have the right to give you such a thing without me knowing?" He reached forward to grab the pendant and rip it away, his face turning startling shades of red as his anger built.

All it took to stop him was a hand on his own. "You will not take this. You will never _touch_ it. I won't allow you to take away my son's gift to me."

"He's not my son."

"He is still my son, and always will be. Nothing you do or say will _ever_ change that."

Karla slipped away at that to write a letter to her brother.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Froschkönig - a joke. 'Frog kingdom'  
> herbal tea - a flavor introduced from the far east  
> molasses bread - the recipe was introduced from what I envision as North America (I use the current world map as a base guide; Lars' poor diplomacy has cut off many of these distant trade routes, and alienated many traders)  
> the green gem on Karla's pendant is alexandrite (one of the birthstones of June, along with pearls)


	28. Weakness and Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His weaknesses don't define him; Newt won't allow it, no matter what happens.

Though Newt is the smaller of the two, it is Hermann that is curled against him. "Do you have to go?"

"Yeah, I do. If I don't… You've never seen Pentecost's scary face." Newt shivers for effect, though he feels like he could stay like this for a long time and Pentecost's scary face wouldn't bother him at all.

"Take me with you."

Hermann sounds so needy, his voice breathy and desperate, and it takes all of Newt's willpower to not roll him over and pin him to the bed. Still, he lets the fantasy play in his mind, of kissing Hermann senseless, then pulling back the robe he's in to lay him bare, and then-

"Why won't you take me with you? I don't want to be here alone."

"Because…" Newt huffs; it's not a task he's pleased with. "It's military stuff. That's not appropriate for you to be there. I don't wanna say no, but… no."

But Hermann is smart and doesn't push the subject. "What will I do while you're gone?"

"You're going to be the face of the kingdom until I get back. You even get to sit on the throne." Newt smiles, but Hermann's face is buried against his chest and he doesn't see. "Come on, Hermann, it won't be that bad. Gunter will be here if any important business comes up, and he'll be there to advise you in case some trivial dispute pops up in court."

That gets Hermann's attention, and he looks at Newt, confused and concerned. "Court? I'm not holding court. I can't hold court."

"You can, and you will, because that's your place as my prince. I mean, I'm not ordering you to, but if you're worried about what people will think…" Newt can see by the clench of Hermann's jaw that's exactly what it is. "You need to stop worrying about that. Everyone likes you! "  
"They like you," Hermann grumbles. "I just happen to be there."

"That might be true, _but_ the people in the castle like you. They know how fair you are, how polite you are, how powerful your magic is, how handsome you are-"

"Now you're just teasing." Hermann pushes Newt half-heartedly away, and flops to his back. His robe falls open revealing that he is, as Newt pictured, naked. "Nobody thinks I'm handsome, or sexy, or beautiful, or any of the other things you tell me."

When Newt speaks, it's quiet, almost hurt: "I do. I think you're perfect, and I want you at my side always. Are you listening?"

"Yes, Newt." Hermann's eyes are closed, but the distress has faded from his features. "And I want you by me as well." He sighs heavily. "You won't be going anywhere dangerous, will you? This isn't… war?"

"No, no way. We don't do that, but it's important to make sure our borders are strong where they need to be." Newt's right index finger traced Hermann's clavicles. "And sometimes that means showing a smiling face with a spiked gauntlet behind it."

"Hm. My father would never respond to such a gesture."

"Our other neighbors are smarter than he is." This time, Newt leans over to plant a series of soft kisses on the left side of Hermann's chest. "He thought giving you to me was a better option. I totally won that negotiation." Newt continues with the kisses, trailing them down Hermann's ribs to his stomach, then lower to his hip.

"Newt," Hermann says, his breath coming in quick pants, "what are you doing?"

"Thought it was obvious." He moves so he's straddling Hermann's right leg and keeping all his weight on his hands and knees. "Didn't think you minded."

"But you shouldn't do that!"

Newt looks up, frowning. "Why not?"

"Because you're the king! You don't… People should be doing that for you."

The frown changes to a sly smile. "I'm the king. I get what I want, and what I want is this." Without even a courtesy lick, Newt takes Hermann's cock into his mouth as far as he can manage.

Newt puts up a punishing pace, giving as much as the noises Hermann makes indicates it's pleasurable. Just tiny whimpers in between gasping breaths, but it's enough for Newt to know. It's the sucking air between teeth that he listens for, and at the first sign, he pulls his mouth off to lay wet kisses on his stomach. And when it seems Hermann's calmed, Newt returns to sucking him hard.

Newt repeats the process of bringing Hermann to the edge and backing off four times before finally removing his mouth and stroking him to a surprisingly forceful orgasm. Without pausing, Newt sits back, just avoiding putting his weight on Hermann's leg, and begins stroking himself with his spunk-covered hand. It doesn't take long (longer than if it were Hermann's hand), and he's adding to the mess on Hermann's stomach.

As much as he wants to lay down next to Hermann, Newt resists the urge. He forces himself to get off the bed to clean himself, then does the same for Hermann. With that done, he flops onto the bed next to Hermann, and puts his arms behind his head.

"I definitely don't want you to leave after that," Hermann says quietly, unmoving except for the exaggerated rise and fall of his chest.

"I don't want to leave either, but I have to."

"I know."

***

Hermann dresses his best, just one step below his finest, to see Newt off.

"I won't be longer than two weeks, I promise," Newt says quietly as he holds Hermann's hand. "Don't be nervous. You're the Prince of Dragons."

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too." They exchange a small, but heartfelt kiss before Hermann steps away.

Newt struggles, in his armor, to get in the saddle of his horse, and swears under his breath the entire time. "I should just be flying," he declares once he's seated.

Ilja is waiting for him, and shakes his head. "You won't leave me behind this time. I need to speak to Pentecost."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go."

Hermann watches the small procession move out, keeps watching as they pass through the gates, and keeps watching until they disappear over a hill. He's intensely lonely already.

 

It's strange to have Schatz around without Newt to fall back on for translation if it becomes necessary. As it stands, Schatz seems much more in tune with what Hermann's currently going through anyway, and rides his shoulder like a small kitten as he aimlessly walks the castle's hallways.

"Your highness!"

That voice does lift his spirits as he turns. "Miss Mori, how are you?"

"Good!" The girl bounces on her toes, and it reminds Hermann painfully of Newt. "Will you do lessons again?" she asks without hesitation, smiling widely at him.

That catches him by surprise. Things had been so busy for almost a year now that tutoring Chuck and Mako had to be removed from his schedule. "Would you like me to?"

"Yes! Father says it's very important to keep up with my studies, and you're better than the others!"

"Now that's unkind. I'm sure they're doing their best."

"But it's true! I'd-I'd really like it if you did. Please."

Hermann can't help but smile at her. "Well, I can't argue with General Pentecost, but we won't be able to start until the king returns from his business."

She smiles, then goes suddenly shy. "Your highness, can I…"

"Hm?"

"Can I pet your dragon?"

No one ever dared to ask about Schatz before, and even Newt didn't touch the dragon. These aren't pets, especially not Schatz, and Hermann can only answer, "He might let you." Kneeling to Mako's level is difficult, but not impossible. The pain lances from his hip straight up his back, but only for a split second, and then it's fine. "Schatz, this is Miss Mori," he says quietly.

Mako stares intently at the small dragon as its eyes open, and they look at one another. Very slowly Mako holds her hand out, and keeps still.

If it were appropriate, Hermann would tell her what a little shit Schatz can be. The dragon stands and stretches, yawning and making a little squeaking noise that gets Mako giggling. But then it leans forward from it's place on Hermann's shoulder and nudges Mako's fingers.

"Go on," Hermann says. The pain shoots up his back again.

Very slowly, Mako reaches out and runs just one finger down Schatz's back. "He's so pretty!" She pulls her hand back. "Thank you."

"Keep up your studies as best you can. Your father is right," Hermann says, at a loss for words otherwise. Children really are not his forte.

"I will."

Hermann remains kneeling as Mako leaves, and only makes the effort to stand when he's sure she's gone. "I may need your help, Schatz. I seem to be having some difficulties." Every exertion, each flex of his muscles makes pain shoot through him to the point he can't actually move. "Help," he says through grit teeth with his vision blurred by tears.

This isn't the first time to ask Schatz for assistance; it's not common, but it's not unique either. Schatz hops from his shoulder, and grows in size (which Hermann finds fascinating under normal circumstances), until Hermann can hold on to the dragon's powerful neck to slowly pull himself up. Slowly they walk, with Hermann holding on to Schatz all the way back to the king's chambers.

He doesn't think anyone saw them (as Schatz's true size is a secret he and Newt want to maintain), but honestly can't recall. And really doesn't care if someone did see them because the pain is not fading this time. With effort, Hermann lays down, fully clothed, and desperately wills the pain to just stop.

The bed dips with Schatz's weight as the dragon climbs up next to him. This is new, with Schatz, the size of a large dog now, laying next to him, the warmth of the large body soothing Hermann.

This is how Hermann falls asleep.

 

Hermann's wound is old, but the scars look unhealed. Not fresh, but they don't look… healthy. This was something he could only accept; nothing ever attempted would actually heal the marks.

That is why, even though Newt's uncle fetched him, found him asleep with Schatz next to him, Hermann will not go to the physician. So many before, poking and prodding at the marks, trying to fix him, that he simply refuses to bother with it. Besides, when he slowly swings his legs from the bed, there is no pain. He's completely fine.

"Newt will hold me responsible if something happens to you," Gunter says quietly. "And I love my nephew, and I find you to be a fine prince for him, so I would prefer you not hurt yourself."

"It comes and goes," Hermann says with an air of flippancy that doesn't feel appropriate. "I'm fine. And… I would never hurt Newt on purpose, even if it were beyond my control." Hopefully he sounds more confident than he feels, with the memory of the crippling pain still very fresh in his mind.

***

Hermann dresses comfortably, something he might almost consider casual, in black and gold because that's what Newt wears for these days. But Hermann tops the outfit with a robe, complete with fluffy collar of black and silver fur. Then the jewelry, because that's what makes it feel official to him, even if it is uncomfortable.

Gunter is waiting for him, and gives him a tight smile.

"Do I have to sit on the throne?" Hermann asks before they get where they might be overheard.

"Yes. It wouldn't look proper if you didn't."

"It won't feel proper if I do."

"Nothing about ruling feels proper."

And that was the end of that discussion.

"But don't worry. If any local disputes are brought up, I'll advise. I always do for Newt. His magic may be powerful, but he has no head for administration. I would hate to do so, but I think Master Choi may be the best choice to take over my position." Gunter shook his head. "He knows the library better than anyone, but I know of no one that has his perspective on the kingdom."

Whether his opinion is desired or not, Hermann offers it cautiously: "I think he would not be adverse to the idea as long as there is someone that can fill his position with the same skill he has." Because he likes Tendo, and thinks there are better things for him outside the library if given a chance.

"You _know_ that, or is it just an opinion?"

"An opinion, but as I've spent a lot of time in the library, and spoken to him extensively, I like to think it is a well-educated opinion."

"Glad to see we agree."

They don't speak further until they reach the great hall. Gunter grabs his shoulder before they walk through the rear door. "You don't need to speak; let the herald do his job unless someone has business."

Hermann nods, his mouth dry as sand.

And then he's walking in, and Newt's not there to draw everyone's attention. No, all eyes on are on him, and he almost forgets and goes to his little chair to the side. Luckily his feet don't tangle as he abruptly veers toward Newt's throne, but sitting in it presents its own challenge as he tries not to get caught on the many teeth that form it. The silence until he manages to get comfortable is crushing, though he is grateful that nobody _does_ make any noise, because that would be humiliating.

Hermann thinks that he will have to take note of the herald for Yuletide, because he somehow knows when Hermann is ready.

The man's voice booms, almost supernatural in its volume as it carries throughout the hall. "His royal highness, Prince Hermann!"

Nobody bows or kneels, or does anything like he's used to seeing from his father's court; no, he nods in acknowledgment to the left and rights sides of the gathered people. Newt's explanation, when Hermann saw him doing it, is that he is there for the people just as much as the people are there for him. To not respect them is insulting what makes the kingdom and gives him power in the first place. What is a king without a kingdom or its people?

There have been days in court where it's taken longer to get dressed than actually being in court itself, and Hermann hopes this is one of these days. If something does happen, Hermann is horribly worried he'll turn everything on its ear and make a huge mess that Newt will have to clean up. But Hermann clears his throat, and says as loudly as he can without yelling, "New business."

There's a silence, and Hermann thinks he'll get out of this, but then the whispering starts. He can't pick who it is out from the crowd, but he catches Gunter from the corner of his eye step slightly forward in preparation to consult.

A voice, louder than simply conversational so that it can be _heard_ , says, "How can the princess help us?"

Hermann tenses, and he feels Schatz shift on his shoulder and actually hiss.

Luckily Gunter takes control, as expected in the situation, and says, "Who said that? Who insults the Prince of Dragons? Step forward, coward!"

Nobody moves, other than the crowd to Hermann's right shifting to make a small ring around a pair of men. The men look around them, one clearly panicking, and the other looking very sour. "Bastards," he spits, then glares up at Hermann.

"Fine, it was me. I said it, and I meant it. What can a paper _queen_ do for us? We need an answer, not promises!" He doesn't move from his place amidst the crowd though, not until guards haul him and his companion to stand in front of the throne.

Hermann stares down at him, anger replacing the fear. "What answers can't a _queen_ or a _princess_ give you that the king can? Because I can guarantee if he heard you say such things, his answer would be the same as mine," he says icily, and there's concern in the back of his mind at how much he reminds himself of his father. But at the moment, it seems more appropriate than anything.

It's only at these words that the man realizes what's he's said, or maybe who he's said it to, and he drops to one knee with his head bowed. "Forgive me, your highness. This trouble has been plaguing us for weeks, and we are desperate. Coming here was our last hope."

It is a brief moment, one of doubt, where Hermann thinks he should just hand this over to Gunter, before he makes a decision. "Stand up. I know how desperation can make a person feel hopeless," Hermann says. "Please wait while we attend to any trivial matters, so I can give your issue the attention it deserves." A small gesture, and the guards shuffle the men to the side. "Any further new business?"

The silence is punctuated by whispers, but no further issues.

"Very well. Bring them." Hermann stands and, without waiting, heads to the meeting room. Skillfully he ignores the looks Gunter is giving him; this conversation will wait.

 

"I wanted to be ready in case something made my magic flare." Hermann is very practiced at ignoring the twinges of his magic as he functions throughout the day, but he also knows better than to ignore it if it reaches a certain point. "And I hope I gained some trust and respect from those that silently doubt me for whatever reasons." Because unlike what Newt said, it is still important that people other than those in the castle liked him. "I-I have to be better here than…"

Because he failed his family, maybe through no fault of his own, but that only means he has to _try_ now, instead of just bowing his head and accepting things.

"We don't think of things here the way they do in the south," Gunter says, very deliberately refusing to use any words to indicate somewhere other than _here_ is home. "You only need to be as good as you are. And you did fine; I think I reacted the same when the first time Newt took control without consulting me beforehand."

It is a decent day in Hermann's estimation.

***

_I miss Newt very much. The idea that he wandered these halls alone, like I am, is a sad thought. Even as a temporary throne-warmer, I want to retreat to bed at night and have him next to me. I want to hear his breathing and feel his warmth, but I'm alone, and it's cold._

_The pain is getting worse. I tell myself it's the weather. I hope it's the weather. I don't know what to do._

 

It all comes to a head five days later when Hermann wakes up and can't move without pain. Attempting to sit up hurts so much that he actually cries out. Moving his arms and legs also hurts, but not to those heights. It's very confusing, because his back has never been the problem; those have all stemmed from the injuries of his hip.

How can his back feel like this?

_The weather, just the weather_ , Hermann tells himself repeatedly while trying to find a way to move that doesn't cause pain.

_It didn't do this last year_ , he counters as he finally gets his legs off the bed to plant his feet on the floor.

Just… he doesn't want to piss himself or the bed like a child or an invalid. He can fight through the pain, he must; he's strong enough for that. He has to be.

 

He's awakened  by someone shaking his shoulder. Hermann cracks his eyes to see Gunter looking at him. "What is it?" he asks, his thoughts blurry for reasons he doesn't understand.

"I'm taking you to the physician." Gunter moves out of the way. "Get him on the stretcher, and be careful! Cover him with that sheet."

Hermann still doesn't quite understand what's happening, but when two sets of strong hands lift him, the pain flares suddenly and viciously, and he cries out. "Newt. Where's Newt?" His hands reach out blindly as his vision is marred by tears.

"He's not back yet, your highness, but he will be soon," Gunter replies with a gentleness that would have surprised Hermann if he were entirely aware. "Gently."

The simple movement from being carried on a stretcher sends tingling probes of agony up and down his spine, and he grips the sheet covering him tightly. "Please," he says finally, doesn't care if it comes across as begging, "I want Newt. I need Newt."

"I know you do. Hold on."

***

"He's asleep. I couldn't find any immediate physical problems, and anything more than that caused too much pain. I'm afraid the next steps are more invasive, and I have no idea what I will find."

Gunter grimaced and shook his head. "Is there something I need to do?"

"I would prefer if Newt were here. He might die."

The words are there, out, simple in their finality. "And that is something I can't do, not with any kind of speed," Gunter says as he watches Hermann sleep. He can almost see the odd off-tone his skin is starting to become, and wishes Newt were there as well. "I can only say to do what you have to."

***

The tent Newt is in nearly collapses as Schatz, almost as large as a house, tears away the front.

"Shit! What the?" Newt shouts as he's dumped off his little stool, and the table he was eating from is knocked over. "Schatz! What are you doing?"

Schatz's story is so frantic, so rushed, Newt can barely understand it, but he's getting the idea, and he's not happy.

"Hermann, something is wrong with Hermann?"

A furious nod, and a sigh of relief, but the dragon waits and stares at Newt.

"Go on then! Don't wait for me! Wait, a message. Let me write a message to give them. Can you do that?" Though Newt feels his hands shaking so badly he's not sure if anyone will be able to read his handwriting. He gets the table back up, then digs through his things. His quill is mostly dry, but there is enough ink on it to scrawl two words.

_I'm coming_

 

Newt has never flown faster in his life. His eyes are burning, and his thighs ache, but he tunes out his discomfort knowing he has no choice. His uncle and Pentecost had understood, and he'd already made his presence known; there wouldn't be any insult by his leaving.

When the castle is in sight, the rush of relief and dread make him duck lower, trying to go just a little faster.

What if it was too late? What if Hermann had…?

But he can't let himself think about that, not until Hermann is in front of him, dead or alive, can he worry about it. When he lands, it's a bone-jarring impact, but he's sliding off Dorthe and hurrying down the stairs without feeling it. There's nobody there to greet him, which isn't a concern; it's probably a bonus, as there's no one to get in his way as he hurries to the physician.

When Newt finally gets there, bursts through the door, he sees his uncle and the physician standing over an unmoving Hermann. "Am I too late?"

"No, Newt," his uncle says quietly, and moves to one side so Newt can take his place. "He was fine, and then he didn't come down for breakfast. I found him passed out on the floor of the bedroom. He was confused, and in a lot of pain."

Newt hears the words and feels his uncle's hand on his shoulder, but it doesn't register. Only Hermann's pale, drawn face, with his eyes moving sluggishly behind his eyelids makes any sense to him.

"I might have an idea," Lane says. "If you'd assist me…?"

When Newt looks up, his eyes are brimming with tears. The idea of touching Hermann and finding his skin cold and waxy is terrifying, and his mind is buzzing with how much this hurts. "Yeah," he replies, trying not to choke on the word.

Lane begins to talk with the expectation Newt will understand. "I'm afraid I didn't examine further before treating his injured leg. What can you tell me about stone dragons?" The sheet is pulled back to reveal the ugly scars, and then he's cleaning them with a foul smelling concoction.

He's going to cut Hermann open. Newt swallows hard. "Large, thick claws, to carve out dens."

"Keep going." He has a sharp knife, and the edge is against Hermann's skin. "What else?"

"They have a gray hide that helps them blend in with their surroundings."

There's blood, and Newt's helped enough times that even though he's half-traumatized, he knows how to help automatically.

"What else, Newt? What are we missing?"

Deeper still, and distantly Newt wants to vomit as Hermann is practically flayed open. "They… have, um. They have a weak venom inherent to most dragons." It feels like lightning striking his brain. "Venom?" Newt asks, emerging from the terrified fog he was just lost in.

"Exactly. Do you remember the spiders we studied? What we observed with their venom?" The wound is open and ugly, but more than simple gore.

"It penetrated the bone in some cases, creating open sores periodically long after the bite itself was healed. You-you think that's what happened?" There is some off-colored flesh in there, deep down close to the bone, and Newt's worry returns with a fury. "What's it doing to him? Is it going to kill him?"

The physician is the perfect picture of calm under pressure. "I think the venom, or the infection from the venom, has been leaching into his system, probably exacerbated by his fall earlier. It's of the utmost importance we neutralize it now to prevent further damage. Do you know what we need?"

And the task to make the antidote falls into Newt's hands. If he doesn't allow himself to think that this is Hermann he's making it for, just concentrate on the mundane task, he can do it without trouble. He's done it countless times before, because it's true: most dragons carry a common venom, in varying strengths, but they use other weapons to kill so it's often forgotten. Something in the very nature of them that permeates every aspect of their being with toxin. Maybe magic, maybe their impossible existence…

The antivenom is done.

"Excellent, Newt. Make another batch, crush it, strain it, add it to a suspension solution. We'll give it to him after, to clean his system."

The combination is safe, all things that a man can eat until he's full with no ill side-effects other than bad breath, but Newt can't look away as the brown sludge is packed into the exposed tissue.

"Go on, Newt. It's fine. We'll let him sleep, and then see how the pain is."

Newt isn't sure how many times he can go through this.

***

He's walking, cold, smooth stone on all sides. Shiny, black, ripped through with streaks of orange and red, like what the underworld must be, but he keeps moving deeper into darkness. The air grows hot, but still the stone is cool beneath his bare feet, and breath becomes more difficult to draw.

A stink grows more prominent, like something rotting, and the closed-in stone opens into a vast cavern lit by flickering fires that crawl impossibly up the walls. At least the air is slightly less stuffy, allowing him to breathe more easily, but it's a minor comfort.

What kind of comfort can be found here?

The last thing he remembers is the pain, and asking for Newt, and just more pain than any person could possibly feel. And now here, wherever it is, because surely he is dead and this is the afterlife.

Something shifts from the corner of his eyes, and when he turns there is, predictably, nothing there. Now it moves in the place he was just looking. "Show yourself!" he yells in frustration. If he is dead, that's all he wants to know. If this is his punishment for what he's done in life, then so be it, and he will play these games of taunting. But only after he knows for certain. "If you don't show yourself, then you are nothing, just my imagination."

The whole cavern moves at once, and he shouts his distress as the ground vibrates beneath him.

"Nothing?" a voice booms out of nowhere and everywhere. "You are small, insignificant. You are nothing."

It's the walls, they're moving, sliding to the left somehow. "You are a voice!" he declares with far more bravado than he feels. "I am a person. You are nothing!"

The wall continues to move, has not stopped, until the ceiling starts as well. It's collapsing; this truly is the end. But it moves slowly, nothing like the way tons of rock would if they were collapsing. Lower, now sliding sideways as well, and then-

He gasps, all words lost. His entire body is frozen, shocked by disbelief.

"Nothing? This is nothing?" A head lowered itself from the ceiling.

That's when he realizes, the walls and ceiling aren't moving. What he believed were the structures of the cave is actually a dragon of such immense proportions, he can't imagine where the beast ends. That's also when he realizes where he truly is. This is the dragon sleeping in the mountain. This is home.

"Prince of Dragons. Prince of _nothing_ , I say."

The beast's head is down so that he can walk into its mouth if he suddenly loses his mind. Its teeth are as long as his arm, and he's sure death would be instantaneous, but it's not something he wants to explore. "I… Forgive me. I was disoriented. Of course you're not nothing; you are the greatest dragon in existence."

The dragon snorts, jets of hot blue flame coming from its nostrils. "Your words are as small and pathetic as you. How do you think you're worthy to be called Prince of Dragons?"

"I'm not. I never asked to be called that. I have no dragon magic."

The dragon makes a thoughtful noise that sounds as much like a growl as anything, while its huge red eyes watch him. They're the most interesting aspect: red like jewels, deep and pure in their color, other than the slitted black pupil. They're completely unnatural and terrifying in their utter lack of _life_. "Perhaps I could find you passable as a mate to that little fool, as a minor vessel to our magic if you submit to me."

"I-I can't. It's not possible. I don't…" Newt tried to force him to submit, and that was disastrous. Here he doesn't think this monster means anything like sleeping in the same bed or sharing a bath.

"I'll have you, because I wish it." The dragon opens its mouth, and a cloud of flame rolls out lazily, carpeting the ground briefly. "You want it as well, don't you?"

"No!"

"You do from your tiny king."

He blushes hard, and shakes his head. "I don't submit to him. I don't submit to anyone!"

"You will. You have no choice. You're helpless against me, and you know it. Your bravery is an amusing show, but I'm tired of it now."

"I'm not helpless, and this isn't a show."

A laugh now that makes the entire cavern rumble with its power. "And how will you fight me? Did you bring your spear this time? Your sister's knife?"

There are no words, nothing he can say against the confusion and guilt. And before he recovers, there's that strange shimmering, like what happens with Schatz, and the cavern is bigger, emptier.

The huge dragon is gone, but in its place is what he can only describe as a dragon-man. It's a mostly forgotten memory, a hallucination in a moment of dying, and he can't breathe.

"I do as I wish. This is my domain. But here, perhaps this will make it easier on you." The shimmering again, and Newt is standing there, but his eyes are ruby red, and he smiles cruelly to reveal a mouth full of fangs.

"How can you do that?"

Newt laughs, and it's a nasty, unpleasant noise. "You know so little of dragons, prince. You submit to your king. Now submit to your god."

The form of Newt approaches, and he can't move even to scream.

***

"Morning, sleepyhead." Newt is petting Hermann's hair, smoothing the sweat-damp strands from his forehead. "I have a lot of questions for you, but only when you're ready to talk. Can you talk?"

Hermann stares and blinks. "Newt?"

"Yeah, it's me. Stunned by my beautiful face?"

"I… had a dream." He licks his lips. "Water?"

"Yeah!" He reaches for the cup of water, brings it back to Hermann. "I don't know if it's safe for you to sit up yet. I don't know if it'll still hurt. So I'll just help you lift your head?" When there is no protest, Newt does so, watching carefully.

Hermann's movement is slow, a little uncoordinated while he shakes off the effects of induced sleep, but he doesn't wince or make any unhappy faces. This much seems pain-free. The first few sips are small, but then he lifts his hand to hold the cup, over Newt's hand, and drain it like it had been days rather than hours since he'd had any water. "I had a dream," he repeats, and stares intently at Newt.

"Don't you want to know about what happened?" This is an odd turn for Hermann, and Newt is more than a little worried. They never talked about dreams; Hermann never expressed interest in Newt's, and never talked about his own.

"This dream. I was…. in the mountain, I suppose. And there was a dragon." Hermann's gaze wanders to the window, out at the sky where the clouds are golden and breaking apart to reveal slivers of blue. "It turned into you."

Newt inhales sharply. "Yeah," he replies quietly, and laces hins fingers with Hermann's. "I told you there's a dragon in the mountain, a big one. A really old one. Maybe the oldest."

Hermann turns back to meet Newt's gaze, very serious, like Newt is a talking book.

"It can do that. It can get in your head. I remember it when I was little, and had to wake my dad up because of it. But it can't hurt you, not like that anyway. And I've never heard of anyone else dreaming of it, not without dragon magic."

"It talked about you, and then it…" Hermann closes his eyes, brow furrowing delicately as his mouth turns in a small frown. "It turned into a man. And it turned into you."

"Yeah, I know." Newt begins to pet his hair again. "But it can't hurt you." As he watches, Hermann's eyelids droop, and his hand starts to get slack. "Back to sleep? Just remember it can't hurt you, and I'll be here when you wake up. It's afraid of you," Newt adds in a near-whisper.

The dragon isn't afraid of anything. Whether in fury or curiosity, dragons don't fear. They worry, at least the ones Newt is familiar with, but that might be to their close association with people. But they don't fear, not for their lives or the lives of other. And it's this lie Newt ponders on until Hermann's hand is completely slack in his, and his breathing is deep and even.

After tucking Hermann back in, Newt hurries out. There's no telling how long he'll sleep, and Newt plans to be there the next time he wakes up; he's not going to go against his own word. There's no one around to delay him, because he doesn't have time for pleasantries and excuses as he goes to his hidden spot at the bottom of the stairs.

The sun streams through the window when he opens it, and as it strikes the piles of things collected here, makes the stone shine dully in reflection. Newt ignores the sentimental things, the smooth rock that might temper his concern, a sturdy wooden box filled with _proper_ treasure, until he finds the blue gem. It was something of great importance to him when he was younger, but now he finds it's another trinket that reminds him of the past. He has lots of those, and he has a better use for this. He holds it up, smiles as the sun pierces its blue depths, then brings it to his lips and kisses it.

 

It happens that Hermann doesn't wake up until after lunch, and this time he's immediately aware of what's going on. He also has no interest in talking about the dream. "Hungry," is his first word.

Newt hands over biscuits and a small container of honey. "Okay, so I'm gonna talk while you eat. We've seen something like this happen with spider bites, like one in a thousand maybe, where the surface injury is treated, and healing seems to be fine, but it's not."

Hermann doesn't pause at all in his eating, though he's looking closely at newt now.

"The venom was in your bone, and when you fell, it started leaching out into the rest of your body. So we've got you packed with anti-venom, which is completely safe! And we'll start giving you more when you've got more food in you." Newt smiles, and hopes it's encouraging.

"My life," Hermann says, mouth half full of food, "is a misery."

"No!" says Newt, and is a little surprised at his own vehemence, but he can see a resignation in Hermann's eyes that scares him. "No way. You're gonna be fine! I mean, right now, are you in pain? Go on, move around a little. Not too much, since we've got you stitched up again."

Very carefully, Hermann starts to test his movement, but continues to frown. "It's because you've given me-"

"Nope. I mean, we will because your leg is gonna hurt like a bastard when the numbing paste wears off, but right now it's all you. I-I don't think you want to hear the particulars of what we did, because they're not great, but yeah."

"I assume that is the soreness in my shoulders and lower back. Not pain, mind you, just soreness."

Newt nods, not wanting to start talking about what it felt like sliding those needles under Hermann's skin. The guilt of that, even if it was for Herman's own good, will probably gnaw at him like a hungry rat until the evidence of it heals.

Hermann groans suddenly, and his head drops to the pillow.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Newts says, his hands hovering over Hermann's body.

"I told Miss Mori we could continue studies when you returned. I don't think that will be possible until this blasted thing has seen its end."

If that's the worst thing Hermann's worried about, then Newt is inclined to believe things are okay. Not great, but okay. Though he really wants to talk to him about that dream again, because that is really weird.

***

Even using the specially made braces, walking is difficult. This isn't surprising, considering the size of the only mostly closed gash in his leg, but it's still frustrating. The pain, when he forgets and tries to put weight on it, is excruciating, but that is the only pain. That is something to be thankful for, and Hermann reminds himself that he is, at least, moving now.

The heat of the forge is nigh unbearable, and he's already stripped down to his trousers and undershirt. It's tough, to stand there while keeping his weight on the braces and concentrate on the molten metal in the crucible before him. The others are watching, not understanding what's happening, and everything is fighting him, but Hermann keeps his head down, and _pushes_ his magic into the crucible.

He's never done anything like this, never manipulated metal in any form other than a solid, finished piece. This is truly testing the limits of what he can do, but if it's successful, it'll be amazing. It will be leagues beyond a blade or piece of armor with an enchantment blanketed over it. If he can just find the space in it, where the magic can fit in between the metal, like air or water, but stronger.

Like taking the ugly, dense wool of a sheep and spinning it to be something light and soft and beautiful. Hermann is spinning metal. No one's done this before.

And it's just something he has to _feel_ , when he thinks he's done it, when the magic finally slides into place and moves more easily. The heat suddenly becomes a physical presence, and he sags as his hands drop. "It's done."

"How d'you know?" the blacksmith asks, peering into the crucible. "Looks the same."

"Honestly, I'm not sure." Hermann makes his way to the nearest bench and sits. "The only way to truly know will be to work it. If it comes out as something amazing and impossible, then it worked, and I'll know next time." He's getting his breath back, and looks for his jerkin.

"If it works, it'll be a marvel," Newt says, and hands the piece of clothing over. "Just think about it! Everything we use, stronger, lighter… We could start putting riders into armor!"

Hermann knows the kingdom hasn't been involved in a proper war in over a thousand years, and even the minor battles they've engaged in have been small. The need to increase their capacity for war doesn't make sense to Hermann, but he certainly understands the utilitarian use of such metal.

He also gets the concept of trying something just to see if he's able, and he's been bored by the limitations his leg is putting on him.

"You feeling okay, Hermann?" Newt asks so the others don't hear.

"Just warm. I'd like to clean myself up now."

"All right, let's go." Newt hovers, but doesn't attempt to help.

It's slow going because Hermann is near exhausted from the expenditure of magic, but the sense of accomplishment is enough to keep him going.

"You think it worked?" Newt asks, carrying Hermann's satchel. "It'll be something special."

"I'm uncomfortable with the idea that I'm doing this simply to improve the armory. The idea of war is…" Hermann shakes his head. "It was terrifying when I was a child, and that was something I heard from my father on a regular basis. I don't wish it here."

Newt pats his shoulder a little awkwardly, trying not to push him off-balance. "Hey, we use this gear for other things, you know? I can think of a hundred things to use this magic metal for, and they're not swords and armor. Trust me."

"Good." The continue in silence all the way up, even when Hermann struggles on the stairs and curses under his breath, to the bath. "When will I be able to take a proper bath?"

"Aw, you don't like me helping you wash?"

"Don't be foolish." Hermann looks at Newt with open fondness as he sits on a bench put there just for him. "Of course I do, but I find the bath relaxing, and I am so tired of this injury causing me trouble. Will it ever end?"

Newt begins to help him undress, smiling the whole time. "It looks really good. I bet those stitches can come out in the next couple days." And when Hermann is down to his breechcloth, Newt inspects the wound before kissing the bare flesh around it. "Sit tight while I get the water."

***

Newt kisses Hermann hard, right there in front of the blacksmith and all the apprentices. "You did it," he says, his eyes alight with joy. "I can't believe it."

It's a small thing, a single bracer, but it's half the weight of the one there for comparison.

"Feel it. Just fucking feel it! I can feel the magic in it. You're just, like, the most amazing person ever!"

Hermann blushes even as he smiles.

."It was like working with a dream, your highness. Never seen a thing like it," the blacksmith says. "I saved a little, like his majesty asked."

This wakes Newt up, and he somehow smiles even more brightly. "Yeah! Hermann, give him the jewel!"

Hermann pulls the jewel from his satchel, where he's kept it trapped in the pages of journal without any other place to keep it, and hands it over. It's always with him now, just like Newt told him, but he has no convenient way of carrying it.

"This'll only take a moment," the blacksmith says, and turns away.

Losing sight of the jewel sends a spike of worry through Hermann, even while the man is less hardly more than an arm length's away. Blindly he reaches out for Newt, and grabs his hand. He knows it's not just a serendipitously dragon-shaped aquamarine; Newt imbued it with his magic, though to what end Hermann doesn't know. It doesn't matter either, as it is his most important possession in the world now.

Neither can see what is happening, but it is only a few moments before the jewel is being returned, now on the end of a delicate chain. "You gotta take care of that metal. You gotta oil it."

"Of course. Thank you." He accepts the necklace and immediately slips it over his head (getting it caught on the crown until Newt helps him). "Should I wear it out in the open?" he asks Newt, putting his hand over it where he lay against his jacket.

"If you want."

No, it was more important to him than to leave it hanging out in the open. When he tucks it down into his jacket, underneath his shirt, it is a warm, pleasing weight. The next time Newt has to leave, for whatever reason, it will keep him strong, even stronger than he managed to be before.

***

"Your majesty. Your highness."

"Welcome back!" Newt says, beaming with enthusiasm. "What do we owe this visit to?"

Karla rises. "A request, your majesty, for sanctuary. It's a complicated situation. If we may discuss it?"

"Of course!" Newt doesn't even need to say anything else before Hermann is standing.

"Allow me, your majesty. I know how demanding my sister can be."

He receives a gentle swat in the arm when he's within her reach, and leads her out.

"Is it so bad?" he asks her quietly as they walk the halls to the permanent guest rooms.

Karla shrugs, and looks truly unbothered. "He is unbearable, and I know I don't have a place there. It's Dietrich's place; he runs the kingdom while Father makes borderline insane proclaiments. I only ask for sanctuary so I don't put you in a difficult place. He can't break the laws of sanctuary." Karla smiles and pats Hermann's arm. "Now do you want to tell me about that?"

The cane, of course. As beautiful as the ebony wood is, it's still an object of note. "My injury was not as healed as we all believed. It is now, but I'm left with this because it was not dealt with soon enough."

"Hermann, I'm so sorry. We-"

"It doesn't matter," he insists. "It's done with; neither of us will be traveling to the past to make changes. I… don't know that I'd want to."

Karla abruptly leans up and kisses him on the cheek. "I won't stay. I'll find somewhere to move on to; you deserve your happiness without me to pester you."

"You wouldn't-"

"Hush, Hermann. I've determined to find my own way now. I'm thinking west."

"Karla."

She laughs. "Hermann, you are my _little_ brother. I'm suppose to be looking out for you!"

 

The pages line up, one after another, with Karla's life moving all across them.

"Should you be doing that?" Newt murmurs in his ear.

Maybe he shouldn't, but Hermann will never forgive himself for letting Karla just leave without knowing she is safe. "No, but I'm doing it anyway." He turns his head so Newt can kiss him on the corner of his mouth. "Nothing specific other than that she's safe. That's all I need."

"Mm, good, because you're all I need."

Hermann takes the papers and throws them in the fire. There's no point in keeping them; things can change, but he feels better and can go to bed with a lighter heart.

"Newt?" he says once they're in bed, heads close together on the pillows, fingers intertwined. "About the dragon under the mountain…"

"Did you dream about it again?"

"No, but I still think about it sometimes. It…"

_Turned into a man-like dragon, like I thought I saw when I was dying._

"It's the jewel, your magic, keeping it away, isn't it?"

"I like to think so, but I don't know. My magic's not that strong."

It isn't? Hermann doesn't think so.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Caps all over](echoisles.tumblr.com)   
>  [Fan stuff](echoislesfandom.tumblr.com)


End file.
